


You Might Want to Marry My Husband

by Rearviewdreamer



Series: You Might Want to Marry My Husband [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angel/Death jokes, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Minor Character Death (None of the boys), Moving On, emotional support/comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-20 18:29:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12439032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rearviewdreamer/pseuds/Rearviewdreamer
Summary: When Harry’s husband dies, he asks one thing of him; to find love and happiness again without him. It’s a request that Harry is happy to disregard, until he meets the one person who is impossible to ignore.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Polski available: [You Might Want to Marry My Husband](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12820806) by [stylezluuving](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stylezluuving/pseuds/stylezluuving)



> This is based on a real-life situation I heard of a year ago and couldn't stop thinking about. I have loved every second of writing this and I'll miss it so much! Thanks for reading if you are! Hope you enjoy <3
> 
>  
> 
> Also, thank you so, so much to my amazing friend, Tabby, who read through this whole thing as I wrote it and is the sole reason why this fic has any tags at all :D

“Will he feel it?” It’s the same question he’s been wondering all day but hasn’t exactly had the courage to ask. In all honesty, he’s been hoping against hope that he wouldn’t have to. It’s silly. Even after all this time he’s still praying for a miracle.

Their doctor sadly looks Cameron over still lying in the same rigid position he has been in for the past twenty-four hours, his face worn and tired and half-covered up by the tubes and wires leading from his mouth. It’s not at all the way Harry will remember it.

“No, Harry. He won’t,” she eventually answers him. “There’s been no response to pain stimuli since last night.”

As they keep telling him. Harry tightens his grip on his husband’s hand wondering how it’s possible for him to not feel that. How he can be right here in front of Harry but without any of his bright smiles or wit or presence that have kept Harry so in love with him all this time.

It was just a week ago that Cameron had them both shaking from trying not to laugh too loud at his dumb jokes and twisted sense of humor, which only got increasingly more morbid as the days here in this place turned to weeks. Harry had sat right here in this very spot holding Cameron’s hand the same as he is now, happy to listen to him talk pure nonsense just to make him laugh. Just to keep their minds off the agony of waiting.

“ _Promise me you’ll tell him just like that. With the hand motions and everything,”_ he had said making Harry fondly roll his eyes.

 _“There is no way I’m saying that,”_ Harry chuckled.  

_“What?! Oh, come on, love. You have to, for me? My old English professor was such a dick. Just politely knock on his door one day and when he opens it just yell FUCK YOU as loud as you can. You should practice on me right now.”_

Harry could never do something like that, even to someone who went out of his way to assure Cameron he’d never be a successful writer when the man couldn’t have been more wrong. Cameron’s doctors and nurses have had their work cut out for them working around all the massive flower arrangements and Get Well gifts his readers have sent.

Secretly, Harry thinks Cameron knew he could never do something like that either, which is why the mental image of it was so fucking hilarious. Their laughs eventually died down and then it was just them smiling at each other. That day, Cameron’s hand was so strong as it tightened around his.

 _“No, I’m just kidding of course. I know you wouldn’t do that. And I’d never ask you to. Not seriously anyway. You’d just apologize to him afterwards,”_ his husband joked. He kissed the back of Harry’s hand and he could feel his face light up with a soft grin of his own. Harry wasn’t even aware he was being watched until his husband sighed just looking at him. _“God, I’m going to miss that,”_ Cameron admitted quietly. _“Promise me you’ll find some ruggedly handsome, amazingly fit billionaire to fetch your tea and make you smile once I’m gone?”_

Harry rolled his eyes again. He hated it when Cameron talked like that.

 _“Well, I’m not terrorizing your professor and I’m also not doing that either because you’re not going anywhere, Cam. You’re getting a new liver,”_ Harry grinned _. “You’ll see.”_

Even as Harry said it his stomach was turning to lead. A quick glance at Cameron’s lunch going stale on the bedside table made it even worse. Just like his favorite drink sitting right next to it; the honey tea with almond milk Harry brought him at breakfast that had hardly been touched. He had taken a couple of sips of it while it was still warm and claimed it was delicious, but Harry’s almost certain it was just to make _him_ feel better.

“ _I wouldn’t be mad, Harry. You know that, yeah?”_ Cameron asked after a while. “ _I just- I want you to be the happiest you can be. Even if it’s not with me.”_ He wasn’t teasing anymore which just made the heavy feeling in Harry’s gut all the worse.

He and Cameron have been together for five amazing years and they still have so many things left to do. All Harry has been interested in all this time is getting him well in the here and now, and all Cameron has been focused on is Harry’s future without him. Harry refuses to make empty promises for ‘ _once he’s gone’_ or joke around about potentially losing the love of his life. And he doesn’t need some make-believe fit billionaire to take care of him either because his very real and very much alive husband is still right here.  

“ _You’re not going anywhere_ ,” Harry insisted for what felt like the hundredth time since this whole mess started. He meant that and he said it with sure confidence, but he couldn’t help noticing there wasn’t much more of that bright optimism left in Cameron when he grinned and pressed another warm kiss to his knuckles.

_“I hope you’re right.”_

“Harry?” the doctor gently calls his name. “I’m sorry, but it’s time,” she apologizes. “Are you ready?”

 _Can someone ever be ready for this?_ he thinks to himself. But, regardless, it’s what Cameron wanted, so he has to be.

Harry blinks away from where he was just trying to recall the deep auburn color of his husband’s eyes, now hidden behind purpled lids. He has this fear that the shade he’s thinking of is all wrong or that one day he’ll forget the sound of his laugh when something was sidesplittingly funny. He also has the fear that a donor liver will magically be sent to them as soon as he allows Cameron’s ventilator to be turned off and all this will have been for nothing. It’ll be too late. Logic tells him that isn’t actually going to happen. It’s nothing more than his sleep-deprived brain giving him hope where there is none, but he can’t help it.

“It won’t happen right away. It may take minutes, hours, or in some cases, even days,” she says to prepare him. It’s too much to even think about. They came in six weeks ago because of what they thought was an aggressive stomach virus or the flu. He has no idea how that simple doctor’s visit landed them here.

“But he won’t feel it?” Harry checks again. He can’t stand the thought of him in more pain when he’s already been through so much.

“He won’t feel a thing, Harry. I promise,” she says.

It takes a while to muster up the courage to do so, but eventually Harry gives a quick succession of nods as tears slip down his hot cheeks. He’s not ready. Not even close, but clearly the transplant isn’t going to happen and he can’t keep Cameron here anymore. Not like this. It doesn’t take days or even hours like the doctor said. It only takes a few minutes for Cameron’s breathing to slow to nothing and his heart to stop. And just like that, he’s gone.

\---

Harry wakes up in his flat the next morning with his eyes practically glued shut. The last thing he really remembers is begging his family to let him go home to his and Cameron’s bed and then crying himself to sleep in it wrapped in a pair of arms that didn’t feel right no matter how hard they squeezed him. His mother isn’t holding him anymore when he forces himself to slowly sit up. She’s still asleep next to him and his sister is asleep next to her on the side of the bed that hurts to look at.

It takes a few moments to understand why he’s awake at first when unconsciousness was so much less painful, but then, his ears catch the faint vibration of his phone over on the bedside table. It started going off as soon as their loved ones learned what was happening today. Harry hasn’t been able to answer any of the condolences he’s received. Just watching them pop up on his screen every five minutes has been hard enough, but the person calling him right now won’t be expecting him to give coherent, gracious replies. It’s just Niall. One of his best friends in this world, and also, one of the only other people in this world who may have loved Cameron just as much as Harry did. _Does_.

His chest feels like it has been kicked in and his throat is so dry that it’s painful when he tries for a simple hello. He never knew crying could make a person feel so exhausted.

“Hello,” he manages after he has swallowed a couple of times. Either Niall is in the same misery-soaked boat as him or Harry’s voice must sound even worse over the phone that he thought because it takes his friend a long time to say it back.

“Hey, Haz,” he answers, and that’s all Niall says for a long time. Harry hates the weird silence. All it does is give his mind time to replay the most horrible moments of the past few hours. “Haz, I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, I- I know,” Harry tells him, wishing he could offer some of those same thoughtful condolences he keeps receiving, but this still feels so surreal. 

“No, Haz,” he sighs. “I’m sorry about Cameron, but I’m also sorry about what I have to tell you. He asked me to, Harry. He made me promise, and- and I couldn’t say no.”

Harry’s eyes were already swimming in tears and Niall’s reluctant words have just made his throat burn worse.

“Ni, what the hell are you talking about?” he demands. “Cam made you do something? He made you promise something? Like what? What did he ask?”

His demanding questions are much louder than the feeble hello he gave earlier. The rise in volume startles his mother and sister who sit up with confusion and alarm written all over their puffy faces. It seems Harry wasn’t the only one to cry himself to sleep last night.

“I emailed it to you a little while ago,” Niall says. “Just don’t be mad after you read it.”

“What?” Harry frowns at his phone. “Niall, just tell me what’s going on. Why on Earth would I be mad at you?”

“Not at me,” his best friend whispers quietly. “At him.” The way he says it hollows Harry’s entire chest. “Listen, I’ll call you back in a bit. I know you’re tired, but please just read it, yeah? I don’t want the rest of the world to before you get the chance.”

Niall hangs up and Harry’s mother and sister eye him with caution as he tears through the room in search of his laptop. 

“Harry? Harry, what’s happened? What’s wrong?” one of them asks, but he’s too busy fucking up his own passcode to answer. He forces himself to breathe in and out several times, stilling his shaky hands enough to re-type it and finally get it right.

He sits back down on the bed with two pairs of eyes reading over his shoulder as he pulls up Niall’s email.

‘ _He wrote this about a week ago and asked me to send it to his editor if he couldn’t. He loved you so, so much, Haz. He asked me not to tell you and I couldn’t deny him this one last thing. He also threatened to haunt me forever if I didn’t agree to do it, so please don’t hate me either. –N’_

Harry opens the document that’s a lot longer than he expected for Cameron to have supposedly written it just a week ago. He was already heading for multi-organ failure at that point. His fingers had started swelling due to the morphine and fluid back-up, and he was so tired that he could hardly keep his eyes open. He slipped into a coma just days later and Harry hadn’t left his side once. He has no idea when Cameron would’ve had time to type all this out.

_‘If you’re reading this, I guess it’s safe to say I’m gone. My stay in this wonderful hospital with its amazing staff wasn’t just temporary like we all hoped, I didn’t get that new liver after all, and now, there’s one less person waiting on the transplant list. To whomever is next in line, cheers. I sincerely wish you the best and hope things work out better for you than they have for me._

_First, let me start by saying that dying isn’t nearly as scary as I thought it’d be. It’s sad, and it sucks, and it’s painful to feel your entire body shutting down around you, but I’m not afraid of going. Leaving this place will be hard, but not quite as hard as it’s going to be to leave behind the best person I’ve ever known._

_He’s a real catch. Seriously. I have no idea how I even managed to pull him. I still think I’m dreaming sometimes whenever I look at him, and that’s BEFORE I remember he agreed to marry me. And not even under duress; he actually loves me back if you can believe it. It’s been five amazing years and I still can’t._

_He’s pretty spectacular as well as incredibly easy on the eyes, and I guess as of a few hours ago, officially a single man. So, while I’m still able to string two thoughts together and while he’s currently napping at my bedside, allow me to introduce you to the newest and most amazing eligible bachelor in the land. My darling husband, Harry.’_

There’s another whole other page left with a picture of the two of them from before they were married but Harry’s eyes are so blurred from tears that he can’t even read it. Not now anyway. He slams his laptop shut, angry with Cameron for making light of a situation like this and his chest so tight from missing him that he can’t breathe.

He feels soothing hands on him, first removing the laptop from his grip and then holding Harry so close that he’s still gasping for air, unable to pull any into his lungs. After last night, he didn’t think it was possible for him to cry anymore but he proves himself wrong as the dam breaks all over again. At this point, he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to stop.


	2. Chapter 2

Two Years Later

There aren’t tissues enough for the amount of tears welling up in his eyes seeing as how he’s been just on the brink of crying for over two hours now. He knew it would hurt this badly. It always does, but that never stops him from sniffling through the entire ending scene of _When Harry Met Sally_ , scrubbing his hands over his own wet cheeks as the two finally confess their life-long love for each other, and then cackling through his tears as they go right back to annoying the shit out of one another as always.

This movie hits close to home every time because Harry knows a couple just like that. In fact, he used to be one half of it.

He takes another large bite of mint chocolate chip ice cream just as Meg Ryan is yelling at Billy Crystal for saying all the right things at the worst possible time. Harry’s hanging on every word, right up until the sound of a phone ringing cuts right through the good part, making him swear under his breath and spill ice cream all over his sheets. Reluctantly, he hits pause on his laptop to answer the person calling who may as well _be_ Billy Crystal from how poorly timed this all is.

“Hello?” he answers, clearing his throat to get rid of any signs of tears while also trying not to huff into the receiver when Niall annoyingly accuses him of being a bore.

“It’s Friday night,” he complains like the day of the week inhibits Harry’s ability to have a quiet evening in. “Stop being lame and come hangout with me. Netflix will be there when you get back.”

“I am not _lame_ ,” Harry scoffs, though it’s not much of an argument considering his current surroundings. “I’m, uh… _working_. Yeah. There was a bunch of work stuff I needed to catch up on,” Harry lies as he uses the end of his pillowcase to scrub the light green stain currently drying into his sheets and only succeeds in staining it too.

He definitely has to wash everything now. _Again_. He blames Niall.

“Work. On Friday night. _Right_ ,” Niall says. Based on the off-handed snort he offers immediately afterwards, Harry’s lie wasn’t as convincing as he’d hoped. “Well, star employee of the fucking century. How about you take a break from all that ‘work’ and come down to the pub. Drinks are on me!” he sings enticingly.

Drinks _do_ sound like fun, but then Harry glances around and feels pretty satisfied with the setup up he’s got going on right here in his bedroom. Dinner arrived at his door in the form of a large pepperoni pizza at the stroke of eight, half of which is currently sharing the bed with him. He’s lounging in the soft, comfy bliss of his favorite hoodie, he’s got the last corner of a pint of mint chocolate chip to finish before Harry and Sally share their big kiss, and there’s already a half-empty bottle of wine on his bedside table from when he was waiting on the pizza. All in all, Harry’s happy right where he is.

“Yeah, Ni. That would be so great right now, but, I’m actually making a _huge_ dent in all this paperwork, so.” His best friend mumbles something into the phone. Harry’s ears are almost certain it was something along the lines of ‘ _You mean you’ve made a huge dent in all that ice cream_.”

“Alright, then. Fine. Whatever. Keep being lame,” Niall says just to get a rise out of him. It doesn’t work. All it does is make Harry fondly shake his head. “I guess I’ll just go drink alone then,” he sighs. “All by myself in cold, dreaded solitude while you lie in bed probably watching Harry and Sally get their shit together for the billionth time, but it’s fine. Who needs a best mate anyway?”

Harry rolls his eyes at his poor attempt at a guilt trip. Though he’s impressed with Niall’s uncanny ability to know which rom-com he’s subjecting his emotions to at any given moment.

“We’re getting lunch tomorrow afternoon,” Harry points out. “You’ll see me in like twelve hours or something.”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t try to appease me with numbers.” The background of wherever Niall is calling him from comes through the speaker, emphasizing a group of several impatient voices urging Niall to come back. Looks like he isn’t as lonely as he wanted Harry to think. “Hey, listen, I’ve got to go, but, same time tomorrow as always?” he checks as his friends’ demands for his return grow louder and more impatient.

“Sure, Ni. See you at noon,” Harry laughs.

“Okay. Don’t be late. Have a goodnight.”

“I won’t, and you too. Enjoy all that solitude,” Harry manages before Niall is hanging up to go back to his other friends. Harry doesn’t know why Niall even left them in the first place when he knows Harry’s weekend routine just as well as his own. The pub scene isn’t really his thing anymore. It hasn’t been for years and they both know it, but he likes the fact that his best friend still tries to include him. It’s kind of sweet really. And speaking of sweet…

Harry reclaims his ice cream, settles back into his pillows, and aims a quick grin over at the handsome photograph resting on top of the dresser before hitting play. For a moment, he imagines the Cameron from that day nearly four years ago lying here with him now the way they always did on Friday nights.

“It’s your favorite part. Hope you’re watching,” Harry says aloud to no one, but his heart knows who it was meant for. Obviously, Cameron can’t hear him and he isn’t here to watch the big kiss at the end, but it makes Harry grin, remembering all the times that he was. 

*

Harry’s pretty sure he turned Niall’s pub-crawl offer down last night, however his stomach feels so weird when he wakes up that he wonders if Niall really did drag him out after all. It’s either that or the combination of sugar, pepperoni, merlot, and grease making him feel so shitty. Perhaps he should go easier on all the junk next time. Salad probably pairs with sappy films just as well as eight slices of regret.

After lamenting the poor choices of last night, the only thing that’s going to revive him at this point is a long hot shower and merciful caffeine. The first he can take care of as soon as he rolls himself out of bed. For the latter though, he’ll have to brave way more than just his cold bathroom tiles. A good cuppa will require him to venture outside of his flat into the actual cold, but it’s a sacrifice he’s willing to make. His food hangover practically demands it.

He sinks his hands into his jacket pockets as he travels along his mostly empty street. He’s thankful he didn’t bring his coat because it’s not as cold he’d anticipated. Actually, it feels quite nice out. The wind still carries a bit of a bite, but the sun shining so brilliantly counters it, making spring feel like it’s truly on the way.

The six blocks he walks in order to get to the café over on Arthur Street don’t take him very long to cover. Technically, he could’ve stopped at one of two other coffee shops on the way there, but he prefers his smaller, more intimate one. There are less people there, the staff is kind and work quick, and the thing about it that Harry loves the most is that they may occasionally run out of breakfast pastries or the little berries they add to his yogurt, but no matter what, they always, _always_ have honey tea. That alone is worth the extra ten-minute trek.

Harry’s morning just keeps improving when he’s able to walk in and head straight to the counter thanks to the initial morning rush being done. It’s a cappuccino/egg on toast kind of day he decides as he places his order with the cashier he sees more days out of the week than not. The man behind the register asks if he’d like it to go as per usual and Harry surprises them both by asking if he can have it here in the shop instead. Perhaps the faux spring weather is getting to him.

He’s informed that someone will bring his order to him as soon as it’s done. In the meantime, Harry scopes out a small table near the back of the shop and begins idly thumbing through the coffee table books and magazines in the center of it. He grins to himself when the one he chooses is an issue of Pinnacle Magazine; the publication that gave Cameron the platform to start his whole career. He wasn’t big at first, having just started out, but his articles became so popular there that he soon started getting offers from everyone. He eventually moved on to bigger things. He was even promoted to creative director for another publication, but he still missed writing and wrote for Pinnacle whenever he could. He’s been gone for two years now so none of the articles in all the new issues are his, but Harry still enjoys reading them. He loves anything that reminds him of Cameron.

When he’s all finished taking a trip down memory lane and the coffee shop’s logo is visible at the bottom of his mug, Harry decides it’s time to head back. Though, not before stopping off at the front counter again to order his usual, which is really a combination of his and Cameron’s usual that Harry started ordering after he died; black jasmine and honey tea with just a splash of almond milk, just the way he took it.

The sense of nostalgia he gets from his drink makes his chest feel all warm as he’s leaving the café. He kindly grins and sidesteps the couple coming inside, but the action causes the girl who just grinned back at him to stop dead in her tracks.

And his morning was just going so well.

“Oh my God,” she gasps. “You’re him aren’t you? You’re the one from that article.” Harry squeezes his eyes shut to suppress the urge to roll them when he realizes he can’t play this off as her simply making a mistake. It’s too late to make a run for it though.

Her boyfriend is wearing an expression that says he has no clue who the hell Harry is, which makes Harry feel marginally better. At least _everyone_ doesn’t know him as the sad widower whose husband lived to torment him.

The girl who recognized him discreetly fills her significant other in, giving him a whispered summary of the events that led to Harry becoming every diehard romantic’s obsession. Apparently, her boyfriend isn’t as clueless as Harry thought because within seconds his eyes are lighting up with recognition as well.

“Oh my God. I remember that story. It was everywhere,” he says now watching Harry with the same morbid curiosity as everyone else who happens to stumble upon him.

“Er- Yeah. I guess it was,” Harry nods in agreement. “Hi, by the way. I _am_ Harry. Lovely to meet you both, but, uh, I was actually just leaving, so…” Fleeing the scene almost never works and yet it is still Harry’s default plan of action to this day.

“Wait!” the girl calls out when Harry turns to leave. She isn’t staring at him with morbid curiosity like most. The starry look in her eyes and the urgency gripping her voice is pure desperation. Something else Harry has become just as accustomed to being stopped by complete strangers on the street. If only he’d gotten his breakfast to go as usual. “Did it work the way he wanted? Have you found someone else?”

The only someone Harry wants is the someone he’d strangle right now if he were here.

“Um, no,” Harry reveals. “Sadly, I haven’t. And, uh, I’m not really looking at the moment, so.” He offers them a polite grin as he uses their stunned silence to finally make his escape. “Well, again, lovely to meet you both, but I’ve gotta run. It’s been great chatting! Bye!”

He can feel the couple staring after him with big puppy eyes like he just told them there was no Santa, though it’s much better than the random unsolicited hugs he used to receive from strangers every day. That was back when Cam’s death was more recent. Now that it has been a while, people don’t want to offer him comfort. They want to see him fulfill his husband’s last wishes and fall in love.

Harry takes a sip of his delicious combo drink, mentally cursing Cameron’s name as he fondly rolls his eyes up at the sky. He doesn’t know where Cam is up there exactly. Honestly, with how crazy he drove everyone including Harry, perhaps he should be looking _downwards_ instead. Either way, he can’t stop himself from shaking his head at him. _The_ _prick_.

“You’re lucky you’re already dead,” he grins to himself, because if his husband ever pulled something like this while he was alive Harry would have no qualms about killing him.

*

By the time noon rolls around and Harry shows up at his and Niall’s Saturday lunch spot, he’s starving, burning up in the sleeves he now regrets, and also running late because he got stopped by two more people wondering if he’s found _the one_.

“Nice of you to show up. Did you forget where the restaurant is?”

“Shut up. You’ve been here like five minutes,” Harry says as he takes the seat across from his best friend. “And I’ll have you know I left home on time. I just kept getting stopped,” he explains as he uses his fork to steal a bite of Niall’s appetizer salad.

“ _Ah_ ,” Niall smirks, pushing the plate closer so Harry doesn’t make a mess. “So, Cam’s up there at it again, eh?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Harry rolls his eyes at that but can’t help smiling at the thought of an angelic-looking Cameron giggling up in the clouds, sending random men in his direction so he can entertain himself by playing matchmaker. When he pictures it that way, it’s almost impossible to want to strangle the shit out of him.

He reaches into his back pocket to place his phone on the table once he realizes he’s sitting on it. When he does, two crinkled up scraps of paper fall out onto his empty plate, making Niall raise a mischievous eyebrow. Harry isn’t quick enough to grab the pieces of paper back before his best friend swipes them up and reads the phone numbers scribbled across them.

“These weren’t just polite inquiries,” he smirks. “These were _date_ attempts.”

“ _Failed_ date attempts,” Harry corrects.

“Mark? Eh,” Niall reads and then gives a noncommittal shrug. “ _Ooh_. _Alexandre_. Even I think that sounds hot. Text that one.”

“I’m not texting either of them,” Harry laughs. He never does.

Niall gives him a flat look paired with a sad shake of his head as he folds the numbers in half and places them on his side of the table. “What? You said you’re not interested.”

“And you are? I’ll be sure to let your _wife_ know that you’re shopping for a boyfriend.”

“Thea would probably be down. Our three-year’s coming up. We’ve got to spice it up somehow.” Harry stares at his best friend until his stony face cracks and he’s cackling like an idiot. “Jesus, your face,” Niall wheezes making Harry crack an unwilling smile too.

“ _Give me those_.” Harry reaches across the table to retrieve the numbers of the very gay men that Niall and his very straight marriage have no business with.

“Text him and see what happens. Just say hi. Talk about the weather or sports or something. Maybe see how he feels about a late-night roll around the sheets if you catch my drift,” he says wiggling his eyebrows.

Harry caught it alright. It’s just too bad that he meant it when he said he’s not interested. 

It’s later that night after his shower that Harry stares down at Alexandre’s number in one hand and his phone in the other. He’s still not interested. Not really anyway. He just feels like at some point he should listen to the advice of his loved ones and at least make an effort to move on. It’s a lot harder than it sounds. It has taken Harry almost half an hour just to add this man to his contacts. It took another ten to open up a blank text, and now Harry’s just staring at the empty space wondering how people do this. How they consciously leave behind the memory of the person they love to start over with someone new. He can’t fathom it.

He deletes the number once he comes to his senses and realizes that he was right. He isn’t interested in dating just like he said, and what’s more important is that he’s not ready. It’s possible he never will be. Maybe that’s why his husband did what he did two years ago, but him wanting to help Harry through this part of losing him doesn’t make it any easier.

*

The following Friday finds Harry in the same place as every other Friday: in his bedroom, cuddled into his freshly washed sheets, and scrolling through Netflix for something touching that can also be labeled as a feel-good comedy to brighten his outlook. His hectic week at work has left his brain more tired than usual so eventually he stops reading summaries of films he’s never heard of and chooses an old favorite instead. _Love, Actually._  

Everything is ready to go with the opening credits up so now he has just about everything he needs to get his movie night started. He had a big Greek salad with chicken for dinner to try and counteract all the junk he ate last weekend, but no matter the calories movie night just isn’t complete without a cool pint of mint chocolate chip.

He hurries to the kitchen to go dig it out, making sure to grab a spoon and handful of napkins on the way, but all his excitement fizzles out we he opens his freezer to nothing but a bunch of frozen veggies, meats, and a half-empty bottle of tequila courtesy of his best friend. Harry hangs his head back to let out the most rueful of sighs only now realizing he was so busy this week he forgot to restock.

A new container of ice cream isn’t going to appear before him no matter how long he stands in front of his freezer wishing it would so he trudges back to his room, resolved to spend this Friday night without it. He hits play on his laptop and doesn’t even make it past Bill Nighy singing before he’s throwing on some joggers and shoving his feet into a pair of slippers out of pure laziness because this night is already bad enough without having to deal with real shoes. 

There’s a small corner shop not even a block from his flat that has seen Harry in way worse states as he breezes right past the door. He heads straight for the freezer section in the back and lets out another pitiful groan at the sight of every fucking flavor known to man _except_ mint chocolate chip. Honestly, what the fuck is going on with his luck tonight? It sucks.

At first, all he can see are fifty billion pints of ice cream that he doesn’t like, but then like a beacon in the night Harry spots the single brown and light green top of what could only be his beloved mint chocolate chip. It’s at the very back of course, because why wouldn’t it be, but that doesn’t stop Harry from standing on his toes to move all the lesser containers out of the way.

He’s practically standing inside the freezer at this point, but finally, his fingers close around the green lid. And because the universe always enjoys a good laugh at his expense, it’s right at that very moment that an unfamiliar voice speaks up from behind him.  

“Hey. I think I know you.”

Harry winces, partly from the harsh cold his fingers are enduring but mostly because he can’t even run out for five minutes to buy the necessities without hearing that dreaded phrase.

“Er- Right,” Harry says, quickly sidestepping the man. “Hi there. Kay, bye.” He’s almost home free. A whole two steps in the direction of the register when the man takes two swift steps backwards to follow.

“You’re the lactose guy. Harry, right?” he says. “From the café over on Arthur Street. You always get the almond milk with your tea. Or soy if they run out. Uh- They always call your name out with your order,” he offers in explanation of knowing all those things. The man glances down at the ice cream Harry just risked frostbite for and raises an amused eyebrow. “Living on the edge tonight?”

Harry studies the man’s face but is unable to find any of the morbid curiosity he’s used to. He knows Harry alright, but not for the reason everyone else does. All Harry sees when he looks at him is a pair of kind blue eyes and a grin that makes Harry feel like shit for trying to run. He’s telling the truth.

“Actually,” Harry begins, “It’s not really me who’s lactose intolerant. It’s my husband.”

“Oh, no. Poor guy,” the man chuckles.

“ _Was_ ,” Harry corrects himself like he still often has to. “Um, he died.”

“Fuck. Poor guy,” he repeats without a trace of the humor that had been present in his voice before. Harry almost wishes he’d let his mistake stand when the man’s eyes soften to hold the deepest sympathy. “Harry, I’m so sorry. I had no idea. Please ignore what I said.”

“No, it’s okay,” Harry finds himself saying. “Like you said, you didn’t know, and it has been a couple of years.” It’s actually kind of refreshing to be able to say that. Usually his past needs no introduction. Sometimes it seems like the whole world knows about Cameron.

“No, I know how inconsiderate I sounded. I lost someone last year, so I know. People can really make you feel like shit sometimes without even meaning to. I didn’t mean to do that to you.”

There’s a lonely heaviness in his words that Harry can’t help but recognize. He’s been there many times before. It’s never fun being reminded over and over again that the person you love is gone.

“Who did you lose?”

“My mum. She had cancer. Leukemia.”

“It was Cameron’s liver. We found out it was damaged and then it just stopped working altogether.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Me too,” Harry says, “I’m sorry about your mum.”

“Um, I’m Louis by the way.” He offers Harry a hand which seems a little strange considering they both just poured their hearts out to one another. Harry grasps it anyway, feeling weirdly comforted when the warmth from Louis’ hand seeps into his cold one.

“Shit. Sorry about that. Forgot I was holding a block of frozen milk,” Harry offers when he realizes he just got Louis’ hand all wet with condensation from his ice cream. They let go and the silence between them stretches on without anything more to say about their loved ones besides the fact that they aren’t here. “So…you work at the café then?” he asks. “I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you, Louis.”

“No, no, you wouldn’t. I don’t work there. I just stop by on the way to the music studio on Eighth Street. Actually, you’ve probably never even seen me since you almost always beat me there. I’m usually the half-asleep one way in the back of the line,” he jokes.

“Well, I’m sorry I never stopped to look back there,” Harry laughs. “Are you a musician? A producer?”

“No, I’m usually just answering phones all day at the front desk. And, it’s okay. You always seem to be in a hurry, so.” That’s because Harry’s generally always running late for work, and also, the faster he moves the less likely someone is to stop him and ask if he’s found true fucking love. “Do you only get your tea there on weekdays?” Louis asks. “Maybe we’ll run into each other one day when we’re not both in such a rush. We could get our orders for there and chat a while.”

Harry would actually really like that.

“Yeah, Louis. Sure,” he smiles. “That sounds nice.”

They’ve been standing here so long that the condensation on Harry’s container is now dripping down his hand and onto the floor. He paused _Love, Actually_ , was forced to put on real clothing, and stood inside a freezer for it and yet now he’s hesitant to leave.

“I can see I’m holding you up,” Louis says when he too notices the tiny puddle forming on the floor. “Sorry for just stopping you like this.”

For once, Harry doesn’t mind.

“It’s more than okay, Louis. I’m glad you did. It was nice to meet you.”

“You too, Harry. See you around,” Louis grins before continuing on to the aisle he was probably headed for before he realized he knew the weirdo climbing the ice cream display.

“Bye,” Harry calls back, grinning down at his feet when Louis throws a ‘ _Nice slippers, by the way’_ over his shoulder. He was hoping Louis hadn’t noticed.

*

It’s a little later than usual when Harry wakes up the next morning. He barely made it halfway through his movie last night before crashing. Colin Firth hadn’t even started learning Portuguese yet when Harry finally admitted defeat and stopped fighting to keep his eyes open. It’s not like he hasn’t seen the end of that movie a hundred times so he’s not too put out about missing it. If anything, going to bed at a decent hour has made him feel very well-rested after being so exhausted. And who doesn’t love a good lie in every now and then?

He grabs his phone off the bedside table to find missed calls from his mother and sister and an unread text from Niall reminding him to be less lame in the future and try human interaction for a change. Harry rolls his eyes. He’ll have no choice but to interact with humans soon. It’s almost ten o’clock and their twelve o’clock lunch date still stands. However, waiting that long for food doesn’t sound too pleasurable, and delicious tea that Harry doesn’t have to make sounds divine.

Harry gets dressed and starts on his routine journey over to Arthur Street. The city isn’t as quiet or deserted as it is earlier in the day. Lots of people besides Harry are up and milling about this morning, so naturally, Harry does his best to keep his head down and walk fast. There are a few too many of them in the café when Harry arrives, so he won’t be sticking around for very long.

Thankfully, no one has recognized him yet. There’s a man standing in line a couple of people in front of Harry who keeps peeking back at him with that look that says he’s seen Harry somewhere before. He has yet to figure out where from so Harry pulls his hood up hoping to further obscure the man’s memory.

When his completed order is finally called out along with his name the night before comes rushing back to him, remembering Louis’ full-on admission of knowing his order by heart. Once he has his precious tea in hand, Harry does a quick scan around the room for him but as expected, his new friend is nowhere to be seen. Harry had never ever seen Louis before last night, so really, it’s no different from any other day Harry comes here. He can’t lie and say he wasn’t hoping to at least see him sleepwalking at the back of the line like he had joked. They’ll both be work bound on Monday morning though. Maybe they’ll cross paths then.

Or maybe right now Harry thinks as someone holds open the shop door for him and then nearly closes him inside of it out of surprise.

“Shit. _Harry?”_ It only takes a flash of Louis’ smile for Harry’s face to light up and do the same.

“Hi, there. Again.”

“I know we said we should chat one day. Didn’t think it be the very next one,” Louis chuckles to himself, though Louis doesn’t seem to mind bumping into him twice in less than twenty-four hours. “How are you?”

Harry is surprisingly much better now that he’s standing with a familiar face.

“I’m good. Just grabbing my tea. I got a late start today.”

“Wow. Really?” Louis asks impressively. He does look a bit tired compared to last night. “This is still painfully early for me for a Saturday. I was just stopping by really quick for a cuppa, but, I could always hang out too. You know, if you’re not busy or whatever.”

Louis takes a quick inventory of Harry already standing halfway outside the café holding his unnecessarily lactose-free drink with this knowing grin on his face since it’s obvious Harry had no intention of staying.

There are several things Harry _could_ go home and do right now. He spilled ice cream in his bed again last night so laundry has to be done at some point, however, the only thing on his list that is set in stone is his lunch with Niall. He still has close to two whole hours before that happens though and his chocolate mint sheets aren’t going anywhere. He can afford to chat a while.  

“Uh, no, I’m not busy,” Harry grins back. “Not at all.”

Louis seems surprised considering Harry was rushing out the door when he got here, but he doesn’t say anything about his change of mind. “That’s perfect,” Louis chirps. “Well, why don’t you grab us a table then, and I’ll be right there,” he suggests as he heads for the line. “The caffeine’s calling and I must answer,” he jokes.

“Oh. Okay… Sure. I’ll just choose a table…” Harry says looking around at most of them already occupied.

He has no idea where to go. His first instinct is always to steal some dark corner table near the toilets where people are usually in too much of a hurry to pry into his love life, however Louis probably wouldn’t appreciate such a quality hiding place. He seems to be quite the people person.  

“Um, do you have a preference, Louis?” he calls. “Anywhere in particular you’d like to sit?”

An elderly lady gives Harry a disgraceful look as she walks by making Louis crack a dumb smirk before quickly straightening his face. “Uh, nope,” he says, grin still splitting his face. “I’m not picky. Anywhere next to you sounds good.”

Harry walks away to scout the room for a free table as Louis instructed, making a conscious effort to avoid the lady who thinks he just offered Louis a seat on his face. His chest is flushed all the way up to his cheeks so he eases up on the tea. Never mind the fact that he hasn’t drank any in the past five minutes.

“I meant tables, you know?” Harry says when Louis takes the seat across from him with his order. The sunshine streaming through their window makes the laugh lines near Louis’ eyes stand out when he snorts.

“Been thinking about that a while, have you?”

“She made it weird! I meant _tables_ ,” Harry iterates but it just makes Louis laugh more.

“She did make it weird, but that’s perfectly fine with me. Whether you’re scaling the inside of a freezer or scandalizing the public with subtle innuendos, I’m not here to judge. I’m here to eat,” he says as he pops a piece of his fresh blueberry scone into his mouth.

“Gee, thanks,” Harry mutters though he’s grinning too much for his sarcasm to have the desired effect.

They each take a sip of their drinks; Louis with his mug of what looks to be a dark roast and Harry with his to-go tea. There’s a brief silence between them until Louis thinks of what to say next.

“So. I hardly recognized you without the slippers,” he says making Harry suck down his tea a bit too quick. “Nice boots.”

“I wasn’t exactly planning on being seen. I was only running out for a minute or two. And, technically, they were loafers.”

“Because _that’s_ what people are calling them these days,” Louis laughs but his teasing is harmless. Harry is more than used to it from dealing with Niall all these years. “You know, I’m pretty sure my mum had a pair of fluffy purple ones. Er- Not at all like _your_ very manly slippers, of course. _Loafers_. Excuse me,” he says forcing yet another laugh out of Harry.

Louis’ lips still hold the shape of his grin after randomly mentioning his mother alongside his joke, but his eyes aren’t quite as bright as before. There’s something distant about them but not enough for him to seem sad or upset, just stuck in his head missing someone he loves.

“You said last night that it’s been a year?” Harry asks. It can’t have been much longer than that for just the mention of her to still cut that deep. Harry knows from experience because his first year without Cameron often left him pasting on grins too. After five years of marriage, Harry spent the first few months relearning what it means to be without him. There were times he couldn’t even think about Cameron without crying, but he got better at it as the months passed. Louis will too. It just takes time.

Eventually, Louis nods at his question, not really meeting Harry’s eyes anymore as he distractedly tips his coffee mug from side to side and then rights it again before its contents can spill. “Uh, yeah. Just about a year. Doesn’t feel like it though.” Harry hates to tell him that it never truly will. She could be gone for a hundred years and he’d still feel her absence. “She was in a lot of pain after she got sick so in some ways, I guess it’s better that she’s gone,” he shrugs. “In the end, she couldn’t talk or even breathe on her own, so.”

It sounds eerily familiar.

“Cameron was the same way,” Harry offers. “After his liver went, the rest of his organs started shutting down too. We kept hoping for a transplant. His doctor knew a hepatic coma would be next without one, but Cam always said if it got to that point to just let him go, so. I did. I did what he asked.”

“I don’t know how,” Louis whispers. “I don’t think I could ever be strong enough to do that for someone.”

Harry didn’t either, but he had to be. “Well,” Harry shrugs with the same forced acceptance as Louis. “It’s like you said. He was in so much pain by then that making it all stop had to be better than letting him suffer.” Knowing Cameron wouldn’t hurt anymore was one of the only comforts Harry had at the time.

“I’m so sorry, Harry,” Louis says and Harry can tell he truly means it. “Was he sick for a long time? I know my mum was perfectly fine one day and then the next she just wasn’t. Once the doctors figured out what was wrong, it only took a few months.”

That sounds eerily familiar too except Cameron only lasted a few weeks _._

“I’m sorry too, Louis, for your mum,” Harry says. “And, no. It didn’t take long. Cam would always get these terrible migraines from writing, but he had been dealing with them for years. Long before we even met. He’d take a lot of paracetamol and he also had a prescription for the pain which we didn’t know could be so dangerous over long a period of time. I guess after a while it all just became too much for his body to handle.” To this day, Harry still wonders which migraine led to his death; which dose of Acetaminophen put his liver over the edge. “We were both so clueless when he started getting ill that we showed up to the doctor’s convinced he had the flu or some stomach bug,” Harry laughs humorlessly. Turns out he was just dying.

“ _Wow_ ,” Louis says after they fall into another silence, this one thick with death of all things. “This is a cheery conversation, isn’t it?” Louis chuckles to himself. “Jesus. I’m sorry I brought the mood down being all morbid. I try not to do that. Especially around my siblings,” he adds fondly. “They’re all younger and miss our mum enough without me constantly moping about it.”

“It’s not moping. It’s healing,” Harry assures him. Just because Louis’ the oldest doesn’t mean he doesn’t get to grieve. “And it’s more than okay to do that with me. I rarely get to talk about this kind of stuff with someone who gets it, so I don’t mind. I think it’s good to talk about it. It helps.” Niall always listens and tries to make him feel better on the really hard days, but ultimately, it just makes Niall feel like a bad friend because there’s really nothing he can do or say to fix it. All his best friend can do is be there for him. Harry doesn’t know Louis very well yet or if he has a someone to talk to on hard days, but Harry doesn’t mind being that person. At least, for now, anyway.

“We should talk about something else. _Anything_ else. Nothing depressing allowed though. Only happy things,” Louis suggests as if to start fresh. “So, what’s something you’re happy about today, Harry?”

Right now, he’s pretty happy he stayed for his tea instead of rushing off as usual. “Um…The corner shop from last night had chocolate mint ice cream so that pretty much made my entire weekend,” he grins. “What about you, Louis? What are you happy about?”

“Well, for starters, it’s sunny so it feels _amazing_ out,” Louis says smiling out of their window as he continues thinking of good things. “I’m pretty happy that I just so happened to run out of toothpaste last night right when you decided you needed ice cream. We probably would never have officially met otherwise. Also -and I can’t believe I’m saying this- but, I’m actually glad I woke up at the godforsaken hour of nine this morning and then felt the sudden urge for coffee because this is really nice.”

“Us meeting again _was_ pretty lucky,” Harry agrees. “I slept in today for the first time in forever.”

“I know. We’re basically fated friends at this point,” Louis teases. “Two charmingly handsome people who can turn a conversation depressing at the drop of a hat. Face it, mate. Our friendship was inevitable.”

Harry hadn’t really thought of it that way. He’d just assumed running into Louis like this was merely coincidence, though now that Louis has brought it up, Harry can’t help grinning down at his honey-flavored jasmine tea and sending a silent, appreciative thank you up to the sky just in case Angel Cameron really has been at it again.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry left the café that day with half the blueberry scone Louis couldn’t finish, a grin on his face because Louis down right insisted that he take it, and his new friend’s phone number which Harry had wanted to ask for so they could plan their next café day instead of leaving it all to fate, but felt weird about actually doing so. All the guesswork about that situation vanished the moment Louis unceremoniously swiped Harry’s phone from his side of the table and typed his number into it himself.

Now, he talks to Louis all the time. It’s only been a few weeks and they have a message history about ten miles long full of random silly things like the bruise Harry got tripping over his own laptop charger or Louis taking dumb pictures of himself at work pretending to nap in various places around the studio. Occasionally, a few dark things do creep in, like the one-year anniversary of Louis’ mother dying and Harry admitting that when it was Cameron’s one-year he couldn’t even get out of bed. That’s something he had only ever told Niall. It made Louis feel better to know that, and also to visit the hospital his mother was treated at to talk to the patients who didn’t have a loved one to sit with them through their treatments that day. It’s not the same, but Harry guesses it’s a lot like the morning he got up and officially registered himself as an organ donor even though Cameron was already gone. It just felt good and right and mostly he knew it would’ve made Cameron proud.

No matter the topic of their conversation, Harry enjoys talking to Louis. He likes seeing him too, which has become as essential to his weekend routine as Film Fridays and Saturday lunches with Niall.

“So, are we ever going to talk about the way people stare at you or are we just going to keep pretending I can’t see them?” Louis asks from behind his coffee mug one morning, however the smirk he’s wearing doesn’t match his innocent, inquiring tone.

Harry follows his gaze to the couple sitting behind them who have been stealing glances at Harry ever since he walked in. The two women quickly look away and pretend to be engrossed in conversation once they realize Harry is on to them, but he’s sure they go right back to staring the moment he turns around again. That’s the only explanation he has for the expectant, shit-eating grin Louis is now wearing.

“Er- I think they’re staring at you, mate,” Harry shrugs, but Louis isn’t buying it.

“Bullshit. This happens every time we’re together,” he laughs. “People literally _gawk_.”

“They do not,” Harry rolls his eyes.

“Oh, but they do, my friend. All the time. And I get it because you’re ridiculously gorgeous so you’re going to draw attention, but this is something else entirely. Those two women aren’t even _into_ men and they haven’t stopped looking over here,” he smirks, playfully narrowing his eyes in suspicion. “Go on then. Tell me. Who are you? Actor? Singer? Mildly successful YouTube sensation? _All three_ perhaps?”

Harry sputters into his own mug, getting honey-flavored tea everywhere. He sighs in defeat as he cleans himself up with the napkin Louis hands him. One of the best parts of becoming friends with Louis is that he _doesn’t_ gawk or expect things from him that he’s not ready for. Harry’s been dreading it for weeks, but he knew this day would come.

“I’m not anybody,” Harry finally says causing Louis’ eyes to narrow even further like he’s about to call bullshit again. “No, really. It’s not me who’s known for anything… It was Cam.”

“For his writing,” Louis guesses correctly.

“Yeah. He wrote a lot of things, but only one seems to really matter now that he’s gone. It was this piece he begged my best friend to release if he died. It was this article about us. About _me_ ,” he corrects. “In it, he told everyone how much he loved me, and then, he asked for someone else to come take his place.” The idea that anybody could ever take his place is ludicrous even now. “He slipped into the coma not even two days later so I still don’t know how he had the strength sit up and write anything. I guess he didn’t want to go without saying one last thing.” He always did like having the final word. “So. That’s the big secret. That’s why people stare and know who I am. My husband died and broadcasted to the entire planet that I could probably use a new one,” he chuckles to himself.

He ends his reveal on a shrug even though it feels like a huge admission on Harry’s part. And it is. He’s never had to tell anybody about Cameron’s article before. People always just know.

“He loved you,” is all Louis says after letting that all sink in.  

Harry nods in agreement, fondly grinning down at his combination tea that only serves to keep Cameron’s memory alive and well in his heart. “He did. So much so that he made it almost impossible for me to go anywhere,” he jokes. Louis laughs along however his eyes remain curious as they watch him.

“Why do you think he did it?”

“I think mostly he was just scared. He didn’t seem as afraid of dying as he was of leaving me behind. We took care of each other a lot so I think he wanted to make sure I’d be okay without him. That I wouldn’t be alone for the rest of my life. A gentle push for me to fall in love with some fit multi-billionaire and live happily ever after,” he says with a whimsical roll of his eyes.

“Well, I don’t know about the multi-billionaire who’s going to sweep you off your feet, but I do know that you won’t be alone forever, Harry. Cam had nothing to worry about in that department. You’re amazing.”

“So…I guess you’ll have fun Googling us later,” Harry jokes to hide the fact that his stomach just did a full flip.

“Do you want me to? It all sounds pretty personal. Private, even.”

It is. Harry still has the issue of _Pinnacle_ that ran it. It’s the only one he kept after Cameron died. He only ever drags it out when he thinks he can no longer remember his voice or the way that brilliant mind of his worked. Harry knows that the whole world has read it too so those words aren’t exclusive to him, but sometimes it feels like they are.

“I won’t read it,” Louis decides after a while of Harry visibly struggling to articulate that very complicated sentiment. “It’s between you and him and I’ll respect that.”

Technically, it’s between them _and_ the person who will inevitably answer Cameron’s all-call to put a new ring on his finger, however that day may never come. Harry’s certainly not making an effort to rush it.

“Thank you,” Harry whispers when Louis squeezes his hand.

“Of course. Don’t mention it,” he says. “But, what we _can_ talk about is this fit billionaire you’re ending up with. If you’re getting one, _I_ want one too.”

“ _Multi_ -billionaire,” Harry corrects him. “And I’ll see if he has any friends,” Harry snorts even though he’s not sure it works like that.

“I knew I was keeping you around for something,” he teases.

It’s an hour later when Harry’s phone vibrates with a picture of Louis with his hair parted into uneven pigtails and a sparkly green bow attached to one of them. He splutters a laugh right into his burger causing Niall to grimace and pull his own plate of food closer.

“Is that Louis?” he asks when Harry immediately begins typing back, complimenting his bold choice of hair accessory.

“Yeah, it is. He’s with his family today. His little sister wanted to give him a makeover,” Harry smiles, turning his phone so Niall can see the picture too.

“Nice,” he says through a mouthful of food. “So, what’s up with that anyway?”

“Well, she’s three, Ni. I don’t think she needs a reason,” he laughs.

“No, I mean with the two of _you_ ,” Niall clarifies with a roll of his eyes. “He’s with his family and yet, he’s texting you. Constantly,” he says when Harry’s phone vibrates twice more.

Harry is the next to roll his eyes. “It is not _constantly_. And, I guess we kind of text a lot but that’s not weird, is it?”

“Well, no, except for the fact that you were literally _just_ together,” Niall laughs. “ _We_ don’t even talk that much and I’ve been stuck with you for years.”

Harry sets his phone down to meet his best friend’s gaze.

“What are you even saying right now?”

“I’m not saying anything,” he shrugs. “Just calling it as I see it.”

“And what are you ‘calling it’ exactly? Because we’re just friends,” Harry explains. Niall smirks listening to Harry answer his own question just like he did a few weeks ago when he found out about Louis in the first place.

“Well, clearly I’m not calling it the same thing that _you’re_ calling it. Doesn’t matter. I want to meet him.”

“What? Why?” Harry raises an eyebrow. “Is that really necessary?”

“It is. And besides, you’re _just friends_ , remember?” Niall parrots back to him. “Why do you care?”

He doesn’t. He and Louis are just friends, but he wouldn’t say their friendship is typical per se. They laugh and joke a lot but some of the things they talk about are pretty heavy. They lean on each other for support sometimes and he just doesn’t know if Niall or anyone else will understand that.  

“You can meet him if you’d like. I’m sure he’d love to.”

“Great,” Niall chirps. “Then we can all be just friends together. Let’s do it next Friday. We’ll go out for drinks.”

Friday? Harry’s lips twist into a sour pout at the suggestion. He can already feel his body about to reject the idea of going out at all let alone on a sacred Friday night but Niall stops him before he can protest.

“Your precious Netflix account isn’t going anywhere,” he promises. “And I’ll buy you some damn ice cream while we’re out if it’ll stop you from whining.” That’s not a bad deal on second thought. He’ll have to put on real clothes so that sucks, but besides that, he’ll take it.

“Fine,” Harry grins. “But it better be chocolate mint.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t dream of enabling your lameness with anything else.”

*

Friday comes much sooner than Harry would’ve liked as he searches inside his big double closet for something to wear. Typically, he doesn’t go out. The last time he did was for his sister’s birthday over two months ago and that was only _after_ she threatened to shave off his eyebrows in his sleep.

He checks his phone when it vibrates with a warning message from Niall and sighs to himself because he still isn’t dressed. He’s been staring at every piece of clothing he owns for the past fifteen minutes, wearing nothing but a pair of socks and some boxer briefs wondering if he should just call this whole thing off and go crawl into bed like usual.

 _‘Almost there. You ready?’_ Harry reads.

No, he’s not ready. But, Niall is going to be here any minute so he stops deliberating over the choices before him and picks a pair of black jeans and a thin sleeved shirt that he used to wear a lot on nights out. He shoves his feet into a pair of brown boots next, throwing a fond grin over at his loafers sitting right next to them. He almost wants to wear them. Just to see what Louis’ reaction would be, but he already teases Harry relentlessly over them so he decides against it. There’s also the fact that Louis’ bringing his friend Liam along tonight whom Harry will be meeting for the first time. Maybe he should wait to break out the slippers on a night when it’s just them and no best mates to introduce who aren’t in on their jokes. 

Niall shows up at his flat right at eight o’clock, not even bothering to knock before Harry hears him stroll through his front door and head straight for the kitchen. Harry makes sure to grab his keys and his wallet from his dresser before rushing out to meet him. He finds his best friend with a shot glass already in hand and the half-empty tequila bottle he keeps in Harry’s freezer for emergencies.

“I think I’ll pass on the chocolate mint tonight. I practically had to squeeze into these jeans as it is,” Harry huffs as he struggles to stuff his wallet into his back pocket.

Niall was just about to pour himself a shot when Harry walked in. He isn’t even paying attention to the alcohol and the glass in his hands anymore, now looking at Harry with this weirdly proud and sentimental look on his face.

“I haven’t seen that shirt in a while,” he comments. “That’s the one you always wore out with Cam.”

Harry glances down at it with similar fondness and shrugs. He hadn’t really thought about how long it has been. He just grabbed a shirt because he was out of time searching for one. He didn’t pay much attention to the fact that his husband used to love the way he looked half-naked in it and could hardly keep his hands to himself. “Yeah. Well, it’s just a shirt,” he decides. “We’re going out so I thought I’d wear it. Is it too much?” Harry hasn’t done this in a while, but he assumes not much has changed since Cameron was alive. And plus, it’s now warm enough outside for Harry to not get hypothermia and die, so he deems this shirt quite appropriate.

Niall’s eyes travel down his outfit and up again making him raise an impressed eyebrow. “So,” he smirks. “This whole ‘ _me and Louis are just friends’_ thing... you’re still sticking with that theory, are you?”

“It’s not a theory when it’s the truth,” Harry rolls his eyes. “I already told you we’re not interested in each other like that. You’ll see.”

“ _Oh, I bet I will_ ,” Niall says in a way that pulls Harry’s attention away from his own reflection in his stainless-steel toaster. His best friend resumes pouring his shot with a wicked grin that doesn’t diminish in the slightest even after he tosses back the cool alcohol to burn his throat.

The bar they decided on earlier is already packed with people by the time he and Niall arrive. There’s a thick aroma of cigarette smoke mixed with beer hanging in the air that Harry certainly hasn’t missed since his last big outing. Thankfully, everyone is too busy laughing and drinking to recognize him or notice he has poked his head out of the Netflix hole he’s usually buried in this time of night. The only person that seems to notice him at all is the man waving at him to get his attention from one of the booths near the back.

“Your boyfriend sure seems excited to see you,” Niall smirks.

His what? “Wait- My _what_?” It’s been so long since that word has been used in association with Harry that he nearly chokes hearing it again. “Niall, I swear to God, I will not let you meet him if that’s the way you’re going to- _Wait, Ni! Don’t go over there!”_ he hisses, but his best friend is already half-way across the room, completely ignoring him and Louis’ best friend who blinks in surprise when Niall walks towards them both with his arms stretched wide.

“Louis! We meet at last,” Niall greets the man who stands to hug him hello with matching enthusiasm. “I’ve heard a lot about you,” Niall says, which is relatively tame compared to what Harry was expecting.

“Me too, mate,” Louis laughs, giving Niall the standard two pats on the back before stepping aside to hug Harry hello too. He’s wearing jeans instead of joggers which is quite the change, and he’s also clean-shaven tonight. Harry’s used to seeing him all scruffy after he’s just rolled out of bed but he looks just as handsome this way if not more so.

When he first steps towards Harry, all he does is stare at Harry with parted lips that he has to wet and dry throat that he has to clear before finally wrapping him in an embrace. It’s tentative at first. Much more so than the one he just shared with Niall who was a complete stranger until thirty seconds ago, but the tension only lasts a moment before it melts away. It’s practically undetectable now that Louis’ squeezing him so tight.

“Hey, you,” he whispers when he pulls back with an air of nervousness Harry has never really witnessed from him before. This bar is a lot different from their café and they both have someone else’s best mate to impress. Harry guesses he wasn’t the only one who felt anxious about tonight.

“Hi,” Harry says back, trying to ignore the tiny skip his heart makes knowing their greeting is being watched closely by their friends.

“You look. _Wow_. Er- I’m so glad you could make it. Both of you,” he says now turning to include Niall who quickly straightens his face after Harry gives him a look of warning. “Oh, um, and this is Liam,” he says seeming to suddenly remember his best friend’s presence. “Liam, this is Harry and his friend Niall.”

Liam’s brown eyes are so light and kind when he steps forward to shake Harry’s hand that for a brief second, they almost remind him of another pair that were just a shade lighter. That alone puts Harry at ease about being introduced to someone so important to his friend.

“God, I’ve heard so much about you,” Liam grins, seeming to rethink his words when Harry’s falls a bit. “From Lou,” he clarifies. “He never shuts up about you actually. It’s really cu-”

“Hey, look. I got us a booth,” Louis loudly interjects making Liam fondly roll his eyes and magically stop talking.

“Later,” he promises Harry before dutifully returning to stand beside his friend.

“So, I wasn’t sure if everybody would prefer a table. I figured it really wouldn’t matter,” Louis explains as he slides in on the side he and Liam have already claimed for themselves.

“ _Aww. Your boyfriend got us a booth_ ,” Niall whispers as he slides in on Harry’s right across from them. “ _And I think he likes your shirt._ ”

“ _FUCK. OFF,”_ Harry grits out through his smile when Louis asks if they’d like something to drink. “Sure, Louis. Thank you. I’ll just have a pint of Stella, please.”

“Oooh. Nice choice,” Louis praises him. All he’s ever seen Harry drink is tea in the mornings. “And you, Niall? Is there anything you’d like?”

“The same,” he chirps. “Oh, and eight shots of tequila please. Top shelf.”

Louis blinks in surprise but after a quick calculation of the people around their table seems perfectly fine with that plan of self-destruction. “Alright then,” he smiles. “One night of questionable choices coming right up. Li? A little help carrying the distillery?”

Liam follows his friend to help with Niall’s trough worth of liquor and Harry rounds on him the moment they’re gone and because Harry actually _wants_ to be annoyed with him, suddenly, he’s mute. He can feel Niall stealing glances at him though. He can practically feel Niall’s desire to fuck with him permeating the air.

“I like him,” he chirps after a while of watching Louis and Liam order the whole fucking bar. “Cam would definitely approve of your new boyfr-”

Just like with Louis and Liam earlier, Niall immediately stops talking when Harry fixes him with a death glare, daring him to even _think_ about finishing that sentence.

“ _Attractive male acquaintance_ ,” Niall says instead before cackling and pulling on that tiny, invisible string in Harry’s heart that loves his best friend for being an idiot and spares him every time Harry wants to punch him. It’s no wonder he and Cameron were thick as thieves.

The four of them take their double round of shots followed by another single round just minutes later that Niall ordered at the bar himself with the help of Liam whom he practically dragged along with him. The two of them must’ve exchanged numbers while they were gone because Niall has been rapidly texting someone ever since they got back a few minutes ago and Liam keeps frowning at his phone like it has said something insane each time it vibrates. What they could be discussing in such secrecy after only thirty minutes of knowing each other, Harry has no idea, but he soon catches on when Niall smiles at the sound of his phone ringing with what he claims is an emergency call from his wife. Harry’s not even convinced Thea said a word on the other end when Niall suddenly hangs up and stands up from the table to announce his suspiciously convenient departure.

“God, I am _so_ sorry to have to leave like this, but I’ve got to get home,” he explains.

“Aw, that is too bad. We were just getting into teenage Harry days,” Louis teases sounding genuinely sorry that they can’t continue that conversation of chubby-faced awkwardness. Harry doesn’t mind skipping it. He liked it much better when they were all discussing the famous people Louis and Liam see at work. “You sounded pretty worried on the phone though. Is everything alright?” Louis asks.

“Oh, yeah. Of course,” Niall answers easily but then quickly backtracks. “Uh- Actually, no. It’s the puppy,” he sighs. “She’s just destroyed the house again but don’t let that spoil the night for you and Harry,” he insists. “The two of you are going to have a great time.”

“The _three_ of us,” Harry points out. “Liam’s staying. His puppy didn’t eat anything.” Which is apparently _not_ the case.

“Yeah, about that. He’s coming with me to help out,” Niall answers confidently with a sure grin aimed at Liam who has given up eyeing his phone with absurdity for staring down the true culprit. This new development seems to be news to him too when his brow furrows even further at Niall giving him very pointed, significant looks until one of them finally clicks inside his head.

“O-Oh. _Oh_. Of course. Because…Because of the puppy,” he nods along. “At Niall’s.”

“You’re both leaving because of the puppy. At Niall’s.” Harry repeats trying to work out how exactly Niall managed to pull such a sweet innocent man into his ploy to get Harry and Louis to- Actually, Harry has no idea what his plan is. Only that it’s dumb as per usual.

Louis doesn’t seem too bothered by Niall hijacking his friend, just slightly confused as to what exactly is happening and why they aren’t invited.

“Er- Okay then. Well, bye and good luck I guess?” he offers. “Niall, it was really great meeting y-you…” Louis barely even gets the words out of his mouth before Niall is steering Liam through the crowd and out the door. They leave so fast that Harry wonders if they left streaks of burnt rubber on the floor.

“Well, that sucks. They were only here for half an hour,” Louis laughs to their table of half-empty bottles and glasses once their friends are gone. Things do feel a little strange now without them, especially since _Niall_ was the one who demanded this meetup to begin with. Harry should’ve known he was up to something. He always is. “I hope everything turns out okay with the puppy.”

“You know there’s no puppy, right? They don’t even have a dog. His wife’s allergic,” Harry reveals with an amused shake of his head because his friend is an idiot. Puppy was probably just a euphemism for the pub next door.

“Oh.” Louis’ brow furrows momentarily, making him look a lot less sympathetic now that he knows Niall, Thea, and Liam are all full of shit. He bursts out laughing, looking more and more sorry that he ditched them. “I like him! He’s hilarious.”

“Trust me. He’s really not,” Harry mumbles but he can’t help grinning. “And I’ve told him a billion times that we’re just friends but- well you’ve met him. Sorry,” he offers even though Niall is the one who should be apologizing.

There’s a brief moment where Louis’ crystal blue eyes sparkle even more while staring into his, splotching Harry’s cheeks with a light pink he can feel intensifying the longer he stares. He shouldn’t have had so many shots.

Harry slides his pint glass closer for a sip, hoping to cool his blush but the beer doesn’t taste as good anymore now that it’s warm. His face must show it from the way Louis bites down on his grin while watching him.

“This isn’t really your scene is it?” he chuckles when Harry tries to cut the bitter taste with the remaining tequila at the bottom of a shot glass and only succeeds in making it worse. Thankfully, Louis looks endeared rather than disgusted when Harry winces and licks out his tongue to ward off the aftertaste that comes back to bite him. Wine would never be so cruel.

“No, it’s really not,” Harry laughs. “Is it that obvious?”

“Blindingly so, but it’s fun watching you try.”

That overly warm feeling comes rushing back when Louis smiles at him and again, he has no idea where it’s coming from since tequila doesn’t usually affect him this way. Truthfully, Harry has felt a little anxious all night for some reason. Maybe it’s because of his surroundings. Louis fits in here way more than Harry does. He seems mostly at ease but something’s off because he has been quieter tonight that Harry has ever heard him.

“What about you? Is this your scene?” Harry asks.

“No, not really,” he admits after a look around the hazy room filled with people becoming more and more carefree with every sip they take. “It used to be. I don’t know. I guess I’ve just outgrown it?”

Harry can concur. Looking back, he doesn’t know how he used to spend so much time in places like this and stay sane. He guesses he was just a different person back then.

“So, Harry. What is it that you’re usually up to on Fridays if it isn’t this?” Louis asks after a while. Harry’s cheeks immediately flush again because his typical Friday night looks _nothing_ like this. By now, he’s usually elbow deep in tears and pizza crust.

He scrubs a hand over his face, beginning to better feel all those shots Niall practically poured down his throat. “God, you’re going to think I’m so lame.” He fondly rolls his eyes at the poorly concealed ‘ _Too late’_ whispered from across the booth. “Alright. I’ll be honest. I don’t do much of anything on Friday nights.” Or any night really. “I kind of just stay in. I like to watch movies and just hang out.”

“That, and occasionally running out wearing your slippers for a sweeter and mintier kind of pint,” Louis adds.

“ _Loafers_ ,” Harry grins. Louis doesn’t argue, however the playful glint in his eyes says ‘ _slippers_ ’. Either way, there’s no judgement there for him spending so much time alone which is all that really matters to Harry anyway.

“Well, we should go do that then,” Louis shrugs after a beat. “Neither of us is having much fun here anyway, so we might as well.”

It takes Harry’s tequila fuzzy brain a second to catch up to what Louis’ suggesting. “Um, do what exactly? Wear loafer/slippers?” Harry jokes watching as Louis stands up from their booth and slides on his jacket.

“No, love. That’s something only _you_ do,” he laughs. “I meant watch movies and just hang out.”

_Oh._


	4. Chapter 4

“Harry? Want anything to drink with this?” Louis calls from somewhere in his kitchen.

“I’m okay, thanks. Just the ice cream,” Harry says back as he reads through all the various films, records, and novels that occupy the large bookshelf beside Louis’ couch. There’s all kinds of stuff here ranging from Green Day to _The Titanic_. He wouldn’t have initially pegged Louis for either of those, however the lack of dust on their covers suggests they don’t spend very much time here on the shelf.

This whole place is a bit unexpected. Harry has been exploring it ever since Louis gave him the okay to do so. Noting how almost everything here has its own specific place, but is somehow always just shy from being in it like the acoustic Fender leaned against the window rather than hanging from its wall mount, or the old record player that isn’t sitting on the table but resting on a stack of books just a couple of inches from the floor where a collection of pillows suggests Louis’ love of lying back to have a listen.

Harry keeps on exploring, getting to know Louis better through his surprising taste in pop music. He yells something about popcorn from the kitchen and then pokes his head into the living room when he doesn’t receive an immediate reply.

“I really don’t mind popping some if you want it,” he offers, going quiet when he notices his vinyl copy of Katy Perry’s _Teenage Dream_ in Harry’s hands. “Oh. Um. That’s not mine. I’m holding it for a friend.”

Harry holds up a limited-edition deluxe DVD of _The Notebook_ next making them both snort. “Same friend, I guess?” Harry teases.

“Fuck off,” Louis laughs with light pink tinging his cheeks. “I don’t laugh at your choice of luxury footwear. _Often_ ,” he tacks on at the end before ducking back into the kitchen.

Harry places Louis’ things back on the bookshelf where he found them, kicks off his boots, and then takes a seat on the couch. Louis soon comes to join him carrying a bowl of ice cream in each hand. He hands one off to Harry that’s filled with his usual favorite along with one small scoop of the caramel fudge Louis loves and is convinced will taste amazing paired with chocolate mint. At least that’s what he confidently and loudly hypothesized during the entire walk to his flat after they bought them.

Louis flops down next to him and immediately samples his own two-flavor creation which is mostly caramel fudge with just a bit of chocolate mint added in.

“So, Dr. Frankenstein, how is it? Failure or success?” Harry laughs when Louis’ eyes widen to the size of saucers once he tastes it.

“ _Definitely_ a success. Fuck, I’m a genius,” he says just before taking another generous bite. He orders Harry to try it too and then grins in victory when he challenges him to find one negative thing to say about it.

“Alright, fine,” Harry admits with a roll of his eyes. “It’s a genius combo. You were right.”

“Wait. What did you say?” Louis frowns. “I didn’t quite catch that.”

A weird version of déjà vu hits Harry realizing Louis can be just as endearingly annoying as Niall. “I said you were right,” he repeats a bit louder to Louis’ delight.

“Sorry. One more time. I still couldn’t hear you,” Louis grins, tilting his ear closer to him.

Harry takes advantage of his close proximity and lobs the throw pillow under his arm at Louis’ inflated head. He squawks in offense as he’s forced to try and protect his dessert and his pride all at once while shouting that ‘ _Violence is never the answer!_ ’. Louis ducks fast enough to just miss being hit, but Harry’s too busy squinting down at the random book lying where the pillow had just been to notice.

“I’ve been wondering where I left that,” Louis says when Harry wedges the book free from between the cushions and realizes that it’s not a book at all. It’s some kind of a journal bound in a thick black leather that soft with age. It’s fastened shut at the clasp along with several folded up pieces of notebook paper sticking out from its pages. Harry’s more than a bit curious about what they say but it’s pretty evident that whatever Louis wrote on them wasn’t meant to be shared.

“Here you go. Sorry.”

Harry tries to hand the journal off to its rightful owner after inspecting it for longer than is probably considered polite, but Louis doesn’t reach out to take it.

“No, no. Go ahead if you want,” Louis encourages. “I don’t mind. It’s just a bunch of lyrics and other random stuff I’m always leaving around.”

 Harry glances up from the journal to grin at him and this amazing hidden talent he knew nothing about. “You write songs?”

“Well, I _try_ ,” Louis grins back. “I never do much with them. It’s mostly nonsense.”

It seems he does a lot more than just trying when Harry opens the journal to reveal pages and pages of words dated all the way back from the time Louis was a teenager. Some songs are dozens of lines long while others are just a thought or two that he didn’t let go much further but were still important enough to be preserved here.

“These look incredible, Louis. I can’t believe you’ve never told me about all this.”

“Thanks. I honestly didn’t think you’d be too interested in them. It’s just something I’ve always liked to do to make things a bit quieter.”

Harry has always found writers to be very interesting as well as amazingly talented no matter their chosen format. He married one after all. Cameron wrote huge editorial pieces of course, but Harry doesn’t find Louis’ book of lyrics any less impressive. He thinks it might be even more remarkable since Louis can tell an entire story using half the words.

His whole heart seems to be splashed across these pages though he notices most of the real heavy writing doesn’t start until about a year and a half ago. Harry quickly does the math in his head and feels his heart clench in his chest realizing why that probably is.

He shouldn’t be looking at this, he realizes a bit too late. Louis’ thoughts about his mother’s death are his and his alone, but before Harry can close the journal and give it back, Louis scoots closer, pointing out the page Harry stopped on dated about six months ago.

“Oh, I _really_ love this one,” he smiles. “I submitted it to the writers at the studio. Well, _I_ didn’t,” he corrects himself. “Liam did because he knew I’d never have the guts to do it myself. Our studio gets flooded by hundreds of songs every day so mine is probably sitting at the bottom of a giant stack that’ll never get looked at, but it’s just nice to know something I wrote for her is out there somewhere, you know?”

Harry starts reading at the first verse, instantly understanding why Liam did what he did and gave this song the attention it deserves with each new one he gets to.

‘ _What do you do when a chapter ends? Do you close the book and never read it again? Where do you go when the story’s done? You can be who were or who you’ll become.’_

Harry reads that verse over and over again, floored by such optimistic phrasing at a time Louis probably felt his worst. Harry couldn’t have done it six months after losing his husband. At that point, he was still bursting into tears every other day. He couldn’t even bear to joke about Angel Cameron until a year ago.

“I think these lines are my favorite,” he says pointing to the verse he can’t stop reading as if he finds a new wisdom within them each time that he does.

“Yeah?” Louis smiles. “Me too. I figured you would. I mean, I think they’re generally true for anybody who’s ever lost someone. But, maybe not necessarily. Not for you.”

Harry doesn’t know why. His story ended long ago. He and Cameron were together for what felt like the blink of an eye. Their book was done before it even really began.

“Last I checked, my husband was still dead. Trust me, the story’s over,” Harry chuckles darkly.

“I lost my mum, and unfortunately, I know I’ll never have another one. You lost Cameron and I know as well as you do that you can’t just go out and buy another one,” he smiles, “But, Harry, you _can_ fall in love again. And someday, you will.” So he’s been told. Harry wishes he were as sure of that happening as everyone else including Cameron. “You’re not done yet,” Louis assures him. “You’re just between chapters.”

The feeling of chocolate mint being smeared onto the tip of Harry’s nose makes him fondly shake his head and laugh along with Louis’ demand for him to pick out a movie and Harry’s demand that he kindly fuck off before he aims another pillow at his head that _won’t_ miss. _The Prick._

*

The quiet squeak of Harry’s shower coming to life soothes him just as much as the warm rivulets of water themselves that trickle down his skin pulling the last few remnants of sleep from his bones. Wisps of steam curl around his toes and feet, climbing higher on his body like vines until the damp heat fills his lungs.

He’s alone until the sound of the shower door sliding open behind him sends a thrilling chill down his spine despite the tiny, hot droplets of water condensing on every surface in the room. There’s no need for him turn around or ask who’s there when a pair of lips brush against the nape of his neck and two strong arms secure themselves around his naked waist. Harry eagerly leans back into the hold, grinning as a familiar chuckle vibrates just behind his ear. “Morning, love.”

The need to kiss him is so great that Harry doesn’t even say it back, feeling his pulse race as sure hands massage the plane of his lower stomach. Harry turns around in his arms, already breathless from the rough way his mouth is instantly captured by another’s as his back is pressed against the cool tile. Traces of stale morning and honey cling to their tongues as they always do, making the pair of crystal blue eyes that open in front of him a bit suspect because in all the time Harry has known them, they’ve been brown.

Harry jerks awake with a gasp that’s amplified by the silence around him. A quick look around his room confirms that he’s in his bed alone rather than sharing his morning shower. He lies back with a heaving chest and takes a deep breath to anchor himself in the here and now instead of the vivid dream he can still see playing behind his eyelids if he allows his mind to wander back there. It’s not the first elaborate sex dream he’s ever had longing for his husband’s touch and he’s certain it won’t be his last, however, it only takes a few seconds to realize that this _is_ the first time in over two years that the person he dreamed about wasn’t his husband. It was Louis.

He gets dressed with the creeping feeling of confusion mixed with annoyance at himself wondering what the hell his subconscious was playing at each time he guiltily glances over at Cam’s photo on the dresser. When he left Louis’ after their movie last night, it was with a customary hug at his front door and the promise to meet each other at their café first thing this morning. Their whole evening was strictly platonic just like their friendship has been from the start. They are _just friends_. So, why on Earth would he dream something like that about them, and why did he like it so much?

His phone vibrates in his back pocket with a string of death skulls and surgical masked emojis; a message from Louis depicting his displeasure for being awake this early as per usual. Cam’s picture seems to be leering at Harry’s misery instead of laughing like an idiot on the day Harry scared the shit out of him by hiding in the kitchen pantry as revenge for always doing the same thing to him. Harry pointedly ignores the photo as he walks by it but can’t help cutting his eyes up at the ceiling hoping that wherever the hell Cameron is, he knows Harry isn’t amused.

\---

The double espresso cappuccino in Harry’s hand is doing way more damage than his milder, less caffeinated order of tea ever could. His leg hasn’t stopped bouncing and he feels on edge, but he couldn’t allow himself to get his usual. He didn’t need it. Not when he could still taste the honey from Dream Cameron/Louis’ lips from this morning.

There’s a girl in line at the register who clearly recognizes him from how often she keeps looking over at them, and Louis has been excitedly jabbering about some topic or another since they ordered their breakfast, but Harry can’t focus on any of it. He can’t hear anything Louis is saying over the sound of his own thoughts overlapping and screaming at him to figure this all out.

“Harry? Hey, did you hear me?” The expectancy in Louis’ gaze tells Harry that this isn’t the first question he asked. The genuine concern visible there too tells him that he currently looks just as crazy as he feels.

“Louis, what are we? I-I need to know.”

“Feeling existential this morning?” he jokes, pressing his smile to his own mug of coffee. It flickers and fades once he realizes Harry was serious. “Oh. I’m sorry, Harry. What do you mean? Is-Is something wrong?”

“We are just friends, right?” Harry asks, ignoring Louis’ question altogether. He thinks he may already have an answer based on the way Louis blinks in surprise. “I mean, _I_ think we’re great friends, but. But, maybe we’re not? Is this something else? Something more?”

Louis sets down his mug, regarding Harry carefully with those beautiful crystal blue eyes that Harry’s mind conjured up all on its own to make him question whether Niall has been right this entire time.

“Are you asking if I enjoy spending time with you? And, if I care about you? Because the answer is yes. Of course I do.”

Harry nods at that and breathes a bit easier. “But only as a friend.”

Harry assumes that’s what he was getting at until Louis’ cheeks turn a light shade of pink before returning to their normal pallor. His temporary lapse in confidence doesn’t last long before he’s squaring his jaw and meeting Harry’s gaze head-on again.

“I am attracted to you, Harry. If that’s also what you’re asking,” he admits. “I can’t pretend that I’m not.”

Harry’s not sure of exactly what he’s asking or even feeling for that matter, just that his stomach hasn’t stopped fluttering with those damn butterflies since the moment they sat down.

It’s too early to meet Niall for lunch once Harry announces that he has to go. He’s not sure where, just that he’s jittery from his cappuccino and can’t sit still any longer. Louis doesn’t let him take off like he wants. He offers to walk Harry home and the whole time he wonders if he knew Louis has been developing feelings for him all along or if he’s just so good at lying to himself now that he only saw what he chose to see.

They come to a stop at Harry’s flat. It’s a place Louis has never been until today and yet he doesn’t ask to come in and see it. He just keeps talking to Harry about whatever he can think of about work and his siblings so Harry didn’t have to walk home in silence. How he hadn’t realized that this has turned into more than normal friendship, Harry has no idea. He just knows that when he looks at Louis and tries to imagine them together some day, he _almost_ can. He still feels a giant tug on his heart, which technically doesn’t belong to anybody anymore, but it sure aches like it does.

“I don’t think I’m ready for this,” he blurts out over whatever Louis was just saying.

His brow furrows, his lips twisting up into a smirk. “For what? Facing Niall after the fake puppy fiasco?”

“No,” he sighs leaning back against the wall. “For this. For you.” The ‘ _us’_ goes unsaid, but it’s more than implied. Harry’s just so lost on what he’s supposed to do here without some kind of clue or sign from somebody. Anybody. “You said before that I’m between chapters or whatever, but I don’t think I know how to _not_ be stuck there even though I know Cameron’s gone and I know he’s not coming back,” he explains in one big rush of air. “I just- I don’t know. It’s like I don’t know how to turn the page.”

He can’t. Not yet.

Louis listens without judgement the way he always does when Harry says something he’s certain makes him sound completely insane, but somehow he always gets it. In the long breath of silence that passes between them, Louis steps forward into his space making Harry go still before him. There are several alarm bells ringing in Harry’s head, but he doesn’t move when Louis leans in, bypassing Harry’s stunned lips to press a kiss to his cheek.

Those blue eyes pierce him yet again when they suddenly crinkle up with a fresh grin as he pulls away.

“What was that?” Harry asks, noting the peculiar, uneven rhythm of his heartbeat flooding his ears as the butterflies return to flood his stomach.

“A bookmark.”


	5. Chapter 5

One Month Later

It’s a little past noon on a Saturday when Harry’s phone vibrates on the table, gaining the attention of his best friend whose lips curl up into a knowing grin.

“Is that the boyfriend? That’s the boyfriend, isn’t it?”

A younger and significantly more naïve Harry used to spend all his energy arguing until he was nearly blue in the face that he and Louis are nothing more than friends. His side of the argument has become increasingly harder to defend over the course of the past few weeks though. It’s futile at this point, and Niall must be aware of this because this time he doesn’t even comment on Harry’s lack of a denial, smugly drizzling ketchup onto his burger while Harry confirms his suspicion by smiling upon turning over his phone.

“Shut up,” Harry tells him. Technically, Niall hasn’t said anything else, but knowing him he’s probably thinking it.

His hurries to open Louis’ message not even attempting to hide the way his eyes soften at the picture he just sent of himself warmly tucked in for bed even though he consumed more mugs of coffee than Harry could keep track of this morning. The picture comes with a caption that makes him laugh. ‘ _Hibernating the rest of today and it’s all your fault.’_  

“So? How is he? The boyfriend, I mean,” Niall annoying clarifies as he chews through an oversized bite of food. Harry places his phone back down, forcing himself to regain focus on something other than how undeniably cute Louis looks when he’s sleepy. He replays Niall’s question in his mind and doesn’t really see the point in correcting him. He’d just be wasting his breath, but he does it anyway.

“ _Louis_ , is just fine,” he says.

“Oh, that’s nice. And breakfast with Louis? How was that?”

“Also fine,” Harry reports with a flat face. “Thanks for asking.”

“Cool. And the mind-blowing sex afterwards?”

Harry wills his face to remain impassive as Niall smirks but he can feel his cheeks betraying him as they warm.

“I wouldn’t know,” he rolls his eyes, trying his best to ignore the amused ‘ _I think you wouldn’t mind finding out’_ his best friend so subtly suggests across from him. “Please tell me you come with some kind of best friend receipt. Mine’s an idiot. I want a new one.”

“Strict no return policy. Sorry, mate.” Niall consolingly pats his hand and Harry immediately slaps it away.

They resume eating lunch, however Harry keeps glancing over at his phone with his mind still stuck on breakfast earlier. Still stuck on Louis.

“It’s his mum’s birthday next Sunday,” he says, certain Niall knows exactly whom he’s referring to. “He told me about what his family’s doing. They’re all having lunch together at his step-dad’s.”

“That sounds nice,” Niall offers. “I’m sure they’ll all like being together on a day like that.”

“Yeah. It does sound nice.” Special days like that minus the one you love are always the worst, especially during that first year without them. Harry was so drunk on Cameron’s birthday last year he hardly even remembers it, and honestly, that’s probably for the best. The only recollection he has of it at all is Niall peeling him off the bathroom floor and forcing him into the shower the next day.

“Are you going?”

Harry nods. “It’s a big day. It’ll be a difficult one and I want to be there for him.” God knows Louis is always there for him.

“Good,” Niall says giving his hand a proud squeeze. “I’m glad you’re looking out for one another.”

Harry is too.

*

Over the next week, Louis gives Harry so much information about his family that Harry feels as though he knows them already. Even so, it doesn’t make him any less nervous about meeting them. Harry meets Louis at his flat that Sunday afternoon and isn’t surprised to find Louis’ smile a little less bright than usual although he greets Harry with the same amount of fondness, wrapping him in a warm hug as if the date on the calendar doesn’t make his chest ache. He inhales deeply, slowing releasing the breath over Harry’s shoulder.

“Thanks for coming,” he says.

“Of course, Lou,” Harry says squeezing him tighter. “I’m happy to be here. I wouldn’t miss it.”

He watches as several different emotions play out on Louis’ face once he steps back. Finally, he pastes on a small grin but Harry can tell it’s not real.

“How are you _really_ doing? Because we could take a minute before we go.”

“No, no, I’m fine. I’m just being weird is all,” he waves Harry off. “Don’t worry about me. That’s not what today is meant for.”

He thinks just because he’s the oldest that also means he has to be the strongest. That this is a day for his younger siblings to feel and to cope and not him, but he’s wrong because this day is for all of them. His mother’s birthday is for anyone who loved her and wishes she could be here to see it.

Louis didn’t grow up inside the house they arrive at. Harry wouldn’t know it from how fondly Louis speaks of the peonies and the tulips his mother planted that someone inside must still be still looking after from how tall and beautiful they are. Anything she did to make this place feel like home is something Louis is dying to tell him about, and Harry is so grateful to see him with a genuine smile again that he’s more than happy to listen. He’d listen forever if Louis wanted him to.

He wasn’t really sure what to expect from a family as large as Louis’ when he and Niall only have one sibling each and Cameron was an only child. It’s loud and a little bit crazy with so many people all in one place, but it’s a madness that Harry loves as soon as they walk through the door.

It’s obvious that the mood is a bit somber when Louis hugs his stepfather hello and they share a quiet moment alone. Harry introduces himself and then repeats the process another half dozen times as Louis’ siblings all come over to meet the man standing elbow to elbow with their brother. Thankfully, he’s only interesting for a short while. The real star is Louis who is in such popular demand that he has to walk with the smallest set of twins balanced on his hips while listening intently to the very fast and confusing recount of everything he’s missed since his last visit by the eldest set of twins as they tell it simultaneously.

“Lou? You okay?” Harry whispers as he tags along behind them all, getting curious looks from Louis’ aunts and uncles whom he has yet to be introduced to.

Louis turns to him with much difficulty, snorting when his three-year-old brother makes a grab for his nose. “Uh, yeah, I think so,” he says sounding surprised. “I’m good for now. I’m a human tree slash punching bag at the moment, but, I’m alright,” he shrugs.

He looks alright being with his brother and sisters so Harry doesn’t ask him that anymore. It’s not until later when the house settles down from all the excitement and the reason they’re all together like this becomes more profound that Harry starts to notice Louis looking not so alright.

Everyone takes a seat around the table; Louis’ stepdad at the head of it with his siblings interspersed between his other relations. And then, near the other end of the table, is the two of them. Quiet and stoned-faced as Louis’ stepfather thanks everyone for coming. He reminds them all that there’s someone very special missing from today even though her absence is almost palpable. He also reminds them that today is still a celebration of her life and her family because she’d be happy just knowing that they’re all together.

Harry wasn’t fortunate enough to have met Louis’ mother, but he can tell just by the emotion in the room that she was deeply loved and still is; probably most by her eldest child, silently blinking down at his plate with tears in his eyes that never fall. He won’t let them. For some reason, he still thinks he’s not allowed, so rather than watching his hands shake where they’re resting in his lap, Harry reaches over and lets Louis squeeze his instead.

\---

“Sorry again for my aunt. I keep telling her we’re not together, but.” Louis apologizes once they’re outside his flat a few hours later.

“No, it’s more than okay, Lou. I didn’t mind. I like her.” He actually thought it was pretty funny the way she kept peeking down the table at them and asking if Louis’ boyfriend could pass the bread. And besides that, whatever people assume about them and how Harry feels about it are the last things that should be on Louis’ mind right now.

Louis nods, though he still looks sorry for the mix-up. He sighs after a beat glancing forlornly at his door like he doesn’t want to step through it. Harry doesn’t want him to either. Not alone anyway. He shouldn’t be by himself.

“So. What are you doing the rest of the day?”

Louis shrugs, glancing over at his door again. “Don’t know. Just hanging out here probably.”

Harry figured as much. That’s what he’s afraid of.

“Well, I’ve got no plans either. Do you mind if I hang out here too? I know it’s Sunday, but we could pretend it’s Friday and watch a movie. O-Or we could just sit and talk. Whatever you want.”

Louis smiles. It’s the first genuine one Harry’s seen from him in hours as he gives Harry this look that says he doesn’t have to do this. Harry gives him one right back that says he’s not leaving him. “Movie,” he agrees with a stubborn grin. “I’d like that a lot.”

They pick _Bridesmaids_ to watch because it fits all three of Louis’ conditions; it’s not sad, nobody dies, and most importantly, his mother used to love it. It’s only ten minutes into the movie when Louis stops forcing his laughs and gives up all pretenses of being as fine as he’s been insisting all day. He moves from where he was tucked against the arm of the couch, curling up on his side and carefully pillowing his head on Harry’s thigh. It takes a moment, but he seems to breathe easier being this close to Harry, giving his knee a light squeeze.

“Is this okay?” Louis checks.

“Of course, Lou,” Harry assures him as his fingers instinctively weave into his silky hair to comb through it. “More than.”

Another few minutes tick by before Louis says something again. When he finally does, it makes Harry’s chest ache for him.

“I miss her.”

This time, Harry doesn’t say anything back. There’s nothing he can say to fix it, so he just keeps carding through Louis’ hair and pretends he doesn’t feel his jeans being soaked through with tears.

*

“She would’ve really liked you,” Louis says out of nowhere the following weekend as they walk down the street with no real destination in mind, slowly sipping their drinks in the sun this morning because it’s far too lovely out not to.

“You think so?” Harry grins. From all the amazing things he’s heard about her, he’d like Louis’ mother too.

“Are you serious?” Louis looks him over from head to toe and back again and fondly rolls his eyes. “God, if she saw you she’d be a million times worse than my aunt was. You’d run and never come back.”

Harry laughs at the thought of Louis’ mother trying her hardest to get them together. It makes him think about Cameron above them somewhere right now probably doing the same thing.

“I have told her about you though,” he smiles. “I know she can’t hear me wherever she is, but I like to think she can.” Harry slows his steps to meet his gaze and Louis grins down at the pavement beneath their feet. “I know. It’s dumb.”

Harry’s not sure which emotion to grapple with first. The fact that Louis thinks he’s important enough for him to tell his mother about, or the fact that he thinks doing so makes him crazy.

“It’s not dumb,” Harry tells him. Louis gives him a skeptical look and then laughs like Harry’s crazy too. And maybe he is. Maybe they both are, but that’s fine with him. “I’m serious!” Harry exclaims, now laughing along with him. “Have I ever told you about Angel Cameron?”

“Angel Cameron? As in, Diaz, from _Charlie’s Angels_?”

His assumption makes Harry bark out another laugh because in all the time Harry’s been picturing his husband up in the clouds he never _once_ made that connection.

“Close, but this is a slightly different kind of angel,” Harry chuckles. “Actually, this probably sounds just as crazy as you think talking to your mum does, but me and Niall kind of made up this stupid joke a while ago about our Cam. We like to pretend he’s up there in heaven somewhere fucking with all of us just for the hell of it.” It’s an inside joke that not many other people get, but he knows Louis will. “Lately, I don’t talk to him as much as I scold him for meddling and trying to play silent matchmaker.”

“I’m thinking he may have recently gotten some help in that department,” Louis smiles with his eyes all crinkled up the way Harry loves. “I don’t think he’s the only angel up there playing.”

“You think they’re friends? Cam and your mum?”

“Of course. They’re bloody evil masterminds.” Despite the warm sunshine, something like a chill tingles Harry’s skin when Louis’ hand brushes against his as they resume walking. “I wish I could’ve met him,” Louis admits after a beat.

“I think the two of you would’ve really liked each other.” Harry thinks that all the time.

“Me too. He sounds hilarious. Like Niall,” Louis smirks.

“You mean, annoying?” Harry says. “And ridiculous. And crude. The both of them literally had no filter.” And somehow it was always ten times worse when they were all together. His husband was always saying dumb things just to make Harry laugh, even while stuck in a hospital bed. Harry can still remember them cackling like mad at him trying to coerce Harry into telling his old professor to fuck off if he died.

It was a joke. _Mostly_. Cam really did hate his professor, but he knew Harry would never do something like that. And he didn’t of course. Actually, Harry had forgotten all about it, too sick with grief when it was all over to do anything. That doesn’t, however, mean that he can’t do it now.

“Hey.” Harry stops the two of them walking, knowing that next to Niall, Louis is one of the most mischievous people he knows. He’s also someone who would get how honoring his late husband with something so ridiculous is something he simply has to do. No questions asked.  ‘ _This is for you_ ,’ he thinks, already certain that this is a terrible idea.  “Lou, do you want help me do something really, really dumb?”

Louis seems to think it over for a grand total of about two seconds before agreeing wholeheartedly, mischievous grin already in place.

“Why, of course I would, darling. Lead the way,” he laughs, biting down on it when Harry turns them in the opposite direction of where they were walking by taking hold of his hand.

\---

“Just slip it under the bloody door already. He’s a dick anyway,” Louis says for what has to be the hundredth time in the last five minutes, snorting when Harry slowly slides the piece of folded paper along the floor just before chickening out again and yanking it back.

His nerve has downsized considerably in the half an hour it has taken from him getting this idea to shout random obscenities at Cam’s old professor in the first place, to him deciding that an anonymous note would be just a bit nicer. It still says ‘ _fuck you’_ on it, but Harry thinks there’s a big difference between shoving it under his door _into_ his flat where there’s no mistaking who it’s meant for and him tucking it into the side of the door where it could potentially fall and be picked up by someone else. Although, the latter kind of defeats the purpose of this whole thing.

“ _Shhh_! He might be in there!” Harry warns when Louis bends over to laugh. “And, I’m not shoving it under the door. That’s too terrible. I’ll just leave in the _crease_ of the door like a flyer.”

“Yeah, because there’s a _polite_ way to do this,” Louis mumbles as Harry tries sticking the flimsy piece of paper into a space that’s too narrow to hold it.

Louis watches him struggle for another few seconds before pushing away from where he’s leaning against the wall.

“Here, let me try.” Harry hands the note over, instantly regretting it when Louis hip checks him out of the way and crams it beneath the door instead. Harry scrambles to catch the end of it, but it’s gone before his fingers even make contact. They’re fucked.

“Oh my God. Holy shit, Lou. You just- You just-” Harry swears he sees his whole life flash before his eyes and it flashes before him again when his worst fear comes true and the big wooden door they were just wrestling in front of swings open from the inside. 

There’s a disgruntled-looking man with salt and pepper hair peering at them over his glasses alongside a disgruntled-looking woman who, to Harry’s horror, notices the unopened note lying at her feet. Harry lunges forward to pick it up before she can and loudly crumples it behind his back.

“May I help you?” Cameron’s professor frowns at the two of them and right away, it’s easy to see why Cameron and this very serious man who’s probably never cracked a smile _ever_ didn’t get along, however Harry doesn’t have the balls necessary to even the score for him.

“Er- Uh, no, sir. Wrong address. S-Sorry,” Harry says with a nervous chuckle, grabbing Louis by the arm to lead them back down the corridor the way they came, but he doesn’t budge.

“ _We’re already here. You have to say it_ ,” Louis dares him.

“ _No_ ,” Harry grunts back. “ _This was a stupid idea_.” Louis doesn’t back down.

“ _Say it or I’M saying it_.”

“Say what? What the hell are you two whispering about?” the professor demands, angrily looking between the pair of them for wasting his time. Louis arches an eyebrow at Harry giving him one last chance before his lips curl up into a grin.

“Hey, do you remember a former student of yours, Cameron Singleton?”

The hard crease between the man’s eyes deepens even further as he tries to place the name and then he’s rolling his eyes all the way back with a distressed sigh as if the mere thought of Cameron is just as vexing as the short time they spent together.

“Unfortunately,” he grumbles. “Why?”

“Oh- Um. No reason. It’s just, he died a couple of years ago after becoming  _wildly_ successful and asked us to give you a message,” Louis explains as he begins backing away with Harry in tow.

“Really now,” the man deadpans. “And what was that?”

“Fuck you?”

Louis turns to his left with his mouth hanging wide open because _he_ didn’t say those words. Harry just did. Everyone in the corridor seems to be frozen in a state of shock when he and Louis take off running, laughing so hard after Harry shouts _‘Sorry!’_ over his shoulder that they can hardly breathe. 

Every cell in Harry’s body feels alive once they turn the corner and realize they aren’t being chased. The couple is probably still standing in the door with matching expressions of scandal which only makes Harry laugh louder.

“That was the best thing I’ve ever seen!” Louis pants where he’s bent over still cackling. “I can’t believe you just did that!”

Harry can’t either, but that rare moment of daring came from somewhere. He’s not sure if it was from Cameron or not, but it must’ve been because without him Harry would never have had the courage to do something like that. Just like without his blessing, he’d never have the courage to kiss Louis like this.

He doesn’t see it coming when Harry first steps toward him. Every inch of his face is still lit up in a smile that only brightens and grows from the look of determination in Harry’s eyes.

“Do it. Or _I’m_ doing it,” he challenges him just before Harry crashes into him, heart pounding from the adrenaline and his stomach fluttering from the way Louis pulls him closer.

*

They’ve been alone at Louis’ before, but never quite like this. Harry hasn’t felt anything like the electricity dancing over his skin each time Louis’ tongue discovers a new area of his mouth that hasn’t been tasted, leaving no stone uncovered as they walk through his flat.

His bed is soft enough that it reminds Harry of his own, except this one smells just like the cologne Louis wears. Harry never realized before now how much he loves the scent of it. That it even infiltrates Harry’s dreams that always start out so innocent but usually end in the two of them slowly writhing against each other just like this.

The back pocket of Harry’s jeans vibrates again, making this the third time that Niall has tried to contact him. It’s past noon which means for the first time in over two years, Harry isn’t there to join him for lunch, but at least if he’s a no-show it’s for a good reason. A hell of a good reason. Niall would actually be proud.

“Tell him to fuck off with his fake puppy,” Louis laughs when Harry breaks their kiss to snatch his phone out of his pocket. He types out a quick message telling Niall that he’s busy, switches it to do not disturb, and then pulls Louis back down on top of him to pick up right where they left off.

He always thought kissing another man would be scary. He’s been dreading it all this time, not wanting to forget the way it felt with his husband, but the deliberate drag of Louis’ hands and the dull sting of his mouth are like nothing he’s ever experienced. It’s not better than what he’s used to and it’s not worse. It’s just new and different, and so intoxicating after going this long with nothing that Harry could lie here forever.

Louis flips them after a bit, easily rolling onto his back until Harry’s weight is pinning him down. He slips his fingers beneath the hem of Harry’s t-shirt, slowly feeling out the shape of his back from shoulders to the swell of his bum at the top of his jeans. It’s as much of a shock to Harry as it is to Louis when his own wishful thinking for Louis to keep going manifests into Harry grinding their hips together.

Harry pulls back, embarrassed that it’s been so long for him that fully-clothed snogging has him this unable to control himself, but the deep midnight of Louis’ eyes combined with the hard press of them straining against one another tells Harry that his body isn’t alone in jumping the gun.

“We should probably slow down,” he pants, and Harry knows he’s probably right, but he doesn’t want to stop. All stopping is going to do is drive him crazy until the next time they see each other and they’ve both waited long enough.

He leans back down to capture Louis’ lips, pleasantly surprised when his lips feel less foreign to him. Every kiss and touch feels that way the more they occur and so much familiarity so soon just makes Harry want him more.

“I don’t want to slow down. I just want you.”

Louis swallows hard, his adam’s apple bobbing helplessly as Harry bends to run his tongue over it, creating tiny pink splotches down his neck with his mouth. Harry figured that would get his attention and it does, forcing Louis’ head back as he struggles to keep himself in check.

“ _Fuck_. A-Are you sure? _Please_ , tell me you’re sure.”

If he does this, that bookmark between his two stories is as good as gone, but it’s past time. He can’t stay here in the in-between forever, and moving forward doesn’t mean he’s turning his back on what he and Cameron had. It’s just called living. And it’s scary. This is one of the most terrifying things Harry has ever done, but in his experience, the scary moments are usually the big ones, and the big moments are almost always worth it. He knows without a doubt that Louis is.

“I’m sure. I want to. And, I want it to be you.”

Louis searches his face for a long time, his blue eyes seeming to memorize every inch of it beneath his fingertips. He doesn’t ask Harry to explain anything more before pulling Harry’s lips back down to his in a silent ‘ _okay_ ’.

Everything happens in big bursts of energy that leave Harry’s heart racing in his chest and still moments of quiet between them where Harry can hardly breathe. He can’t remember the last time he was this nervous about sex, but it honestly feels like he’s starting over from ground zero with someone other than Cameron stripping off his clothes; with someone else slowly opening him up and pushing inside of him, however, the patient someone walking him through all of this is the only person Harry wants to be lying here with. 

As expected, the first few minutes hurt more than they feel good. Louis apologizes each time Harry so much as breathes a bit funny, but soon Louis’ sliding in and out of him without resistance and their bodies are moving together more naturally. He listens to Louis’ encouraging voice in his ear and the tense nerves of his body willingly loosen up. The pain from the beginning fades away leaving nothing but white-hot pleasure in its place as Louis rolls his hips into him harder.

When he comes, he’s not even expecting it. His orgasm sneaks up on him in the middle of Louis kissing him quiet, wracking his body with shivers that it had long forgotten, leaving pale goose bumps across his sweaty skin.

Louis doesn’t last much longer than he does, coming with a bitten-off sound in the crook of Harry’s neck. Their hands are shaking where they’re locked together, slowly regaining blood flow once Louis loosens his grip. He’s wearing a big, exhausted grin when he lifts his head to bring their lips together, and if he notices the couple of tears seeping into Harry’s hairline as he reconciles the past with the present, he doesn’t draw attention to them. He pays Harry the same courtesy he was shown just one week ago, drawing Harry close to gently comb through his hair, pretending the tiny droplets leaking onto his chest are just sweat.


	6. Chapter 6

One Month Later

The sound of someone entering Harry’s flat forces him out of his big double closet and away from the mirror he’s been standing in front of for the last ten minutes. His best friend yells to announce his arrival as well as his desire to get to the bar so they don’t have time for Harry to try on everything he owns. Harry grins approvingly at his outfit. He doesn’t have to try on everything he owns when this outfit is perfect.

He finds Niall in his usual place pouring himself preliminary shots. His best friend is just refilling his glass when he smirks at Harry walking in wearing his new dark jeans and short-sleeved lacy-looking top so thin his skin peeks through the fabric.

“Something tells me the boyfriend’s going to like that.”

Harry thanks him for the compliment, unable to wipe the dumb grin off his face. “Yeah. He will.”

Louis does like his outfit. In fact, he can hardly focus on anything besides Harry as they all sit around the booth they’ve claimed as their own drinking and just enjoying the fact that it’s Friday. For the past two years, this day of the week has looked so vastly different for Harry. Not like it looks tonight with him and Louis carrying on their own whispered conversation on their side of the booth, earning endearingly annoyed looks from their friends each time they giggle or a random kiss lands against someone’s jaw.

A slow grin spreads across Harry’s face feeling a pair of fingers teasingly walk along his thigh as Louis formulates a master plan.

“That’s right,” he gasps thirty minutes into their lad’s night, making Liam and Niall both raise an eyebrow. “We’ve got that thing. We’re so sorry guys.”

“Wait, what?” Liam frowns. “What thing?”

“Oh, yeah, the thing! That super important _emergency_ thing we have go do _right now_ ,” Harry echoes. “Fuck, I almost forgot all about that.”

“God, I know. It’s a good thing we were thinking about it,” Louis says, digging money out of his wallet to cover his and Harry’s drinks with Liam still looking wildly confused.

Niall watches the two of them shimmying out of the booth with bored eyes that still manage to hold a twinkle even though he and Liam are being ditched.

“You know, this isn’t _nearly_ as cute as when we did it,” he points out. Louis and Harry glance at each other and quickly fix their faces so they don’t look quite so excited to be leaving.

“Er- We don’t know what you’re talking about,” Harry claims. “We’ve got a thing. Really.”

Niall eyes the way Harry’s now practically glued to Louis’ back with their fingers laced together between them. He fondly shakes his head at the pair of them like maybe he finds them cute after all.

“ _Right_. Well, have fun with your big emergency ‘ _thing_ ’ then,” he tells them once they start inching away. “Make sure to put a condom on it.”

“Still don’t know what you’re talking about, but we will!” Louis calls over his shoulder, the two of them snorting a laugh as Harry quickly follows along at his heels.

The bar’s not really their scene anyway.

It’s hours later when Harry flops back onto his pillows, breathless, sweaty, and so hot that Louis’ skin feels like a furnace touching his. That doesn’t discourage him from cuddling closer to pull his boyfriend into a deep kiss that has him seriously contemplating a round three.

It’s still a bit surreal for Harry referring to Louis with an official title, but it’s one that has been a long time coming. After being married for five years, the word boyfriend had pretty much been wiped from his vocabulary. He didn’t think he’d ever use it again but it’s slowly coming back to him. Just like everything else that comes with it from hello and goodbye kisses that last too long, and pieces of someone else’s laundry mixed in with his. He had forgotten how fun those sorts of things could be; how amazing it feels to fall.

“I have to pee,” Louis mumbles against his lips, snorting when Harry hooks a leg over his hips when he tries to get up.

“ _No_. Kiss me _.”_

Louis laughs again when Harry pokes out his bottom lip. Harry tries to keep him there but Louis tickles his way out of the hold. “I promise I’ll be right back. And then I’ll kiss you for as long as you want.”

That’s a promise Harry’s going to hold him to. “ _Fine_ ,” Harry relents. “ _Pee._ Cast me aside. Break my h- _Ow!_ ” He yelps when Louis pinches him on the bum to shut him up and then takes off at full speed towards the bathroom. He trips over their jeans in his haste, accidentally overturning Cameron’s picture when the dresser catches his fall.

“Oops,” he winces as he sets the frame straight again and then fondly pats the top of it. “Sorry about that, Cam!” He shoots Harry a look of apology before taking off again. Harry cackles watching him waddle out of the room knowing that wherever Cam is, he didn’t mind, and also, that despite still loving his husband the way he always will, he thinks his heart has made room for Louis and he might just love him too. Something else he knows for certain that Cam wouldn’t mind.

When Louis comes back he’s in no less of a hurry to crawl back into bed than he was to get to the bathroom a minute ago. His hair is still a mess, mostly thanks to Harry, and the grin he’s been wearing since the bar is still in place. He stops just short of the bed fixing Harry with this perplexed expression when he realizes he’s being watched.

“What?” His eyes do a quick check down his naked body, but sees nothing to warrant the way Harry is looking at him. And he wouldn’t. Because it’s not something that can be seen. Harry feels it. Every day that they’re together, and he knows without doubt what it is because he has been here before. In love just like this.

“There’s something I want to show you.”

The bed dips when Louis carefully sits down on top of it. “Okay. What is it?”

“A letter. From someone. From Cam.”

Louis’ eyes soften at the mention of it. “The one he wrote you before he died,” he says squeezing Harry’s hand.

“Yeah, that one. Except… he didn’t actually write it for me,” Harry now realizes. “I think it’s for you.”

A tiny crease forms between his boyfriend’s eyebrows when Harry gets up and walks over to his closet. When he returns it’s with the stained wood memory box that only comes down from the top shelf on really hard days, or in this case, really happy ones.

There’s all kinds of things that Harry has kept here. The drink receipt Cam first scribbled his number onto the back of, the picture of him sleeping under their first Christmas tree, and their wedding bands among other keepsakes. Any other time, Harry would stop to reminisce and just remember. Tonight, he pulls out the magazine that’s already open to the article from the last time he needed it.

Louis still looks skeptical when Harry hands it over to him. “I shouldn’t,” he whispers, gently taking it into his hands like the pages are sacred. He had told Harry months ago that he didn’t need to read them like everyone else has, which, to Harry, means he’s the only one who truly deserves to.

“It’s okay. I want you to. So did he,” Harry assures him.

“Alright,” he says eventually, clearing his throat and lacing his and Harry’s fingers together on the bed.

 _‘If you’re reading this, I guess it’s safe to say I’m gone...’_ he reads aloud.

It’s odd at first, listening to Cameron’s words in Louis’ voice. By now, Harry has this entire article memorized but tonight it feels like he’s hearing it with new ears as Louis’ normal, happy lilt turns somber reading Cameron’s first-hand account of what it’s like to know your time is limited. He stops reading altogether when Cameron admits that the scariest part isn’t dying, but leaving his husband behind.

“Haz. I shouldn’t be reading this.” Louis tries to give it back but Harry won’t let him.

“Yes, you should,” he grins knowing that he’s the person it’s meant for. “Please. Keep going? It gets better further down. He thinks he’s funny.” Over the years, Harry has spent just as much time chuckling over Cam’s last words as he has crying over them.

Louis doubtfully glances down at the words before him, but keeps reading as Harry asked.

_‘...So, while I’m still able to string two thoughts together and he’s currently napping at my bedside, allow me to introduce you to the newest and most amazing eligible bachelor in the land. My darling husband, Harry.’_

_‘To the extraordinary man (or woman. Harry always keeps you guessing) who gets the divine privilege of winning his heart, I want to take this time to speak directly to you and try to prepare you for the amazing ride you’re in for. I’m sure you’ve realized by now that Harry is a keeper. If you’re anything like me, you realized it the moment you met. He’s not the kind of person you fall for and just walk away from. He’s going to change your life and you’re going to change his too and that’s fantastic news, mate. But, if you want my advice (which I’m sure you do because I’m literally dying to give it), you just might want to marry him. It’ll be the best thing you ever do.’_

“He thought you’d end up with a woman?” Louis snorts.

“Told you,” Harry laughs. “Keep reading.”

‘ _Harry is the type of husband who’ll wake you up at the crack of bloody dawn to drink tea and ‘just talk’ because apparently, ‘just sleeping’ isn’t an option. He’s also the type who’ll bring that tea to your bedside along with homemade soup when you venture outside without a coat on even after he warned you not to. And he’ll make you watch Love Actually more times than you can count even though it won’t be anywhere close to Christmas, but humor him and watch it anyway, because I promise you, you’ll never feel giddier than when he kisses you at the end._

_Make him go ice skating (trust me. You’ll thank me later), and forget everything you think you know about sides of the bed because somehow both end up being his; you’re just the body pillow. He wants kids. And, although it never happened for us and I won’t get to see it, I know without a doubt that he’s going to be the single best dad in the whole world._

_He’s going to be stubborn. You’re going to want to give him your whole heart right away and his may still be a little broken, but please, don’t give up on him. When he and I promised each other forever, we didn’t think it’d end so soon, so let him grieve for the life we won’t have, but only for a little while. So, make him smile and laugh too because he has a really, really great one. Remind him that every day is a new one that he gets to spend with you. Remind him that love is the thing he deserves most in this world. And most importantly, remind him that his life doesn’t end just because mine did._

_All in all, you’ve got a pretty big job to do, Mr. (or Ms.) Whoever You Are, so get ready. I’m not sure when it’ll happen, but the day will come when Harry decides to hit play again. He’ll still love me, I know, but not as much as he loves you, which is the way it’s supposed to be. So take care of him and let him take care of you. And I’d wish you both the best, but something tells me you already have it. Cheers. -C’_

There’s an ocean worth of tears pooled in Louis’ eyes when he blinks up at Harry.

“You think I’m this person?”

Harry’s own watery smile brightens as he nods in answer. True, he’s no multi-billionaire, but he is definitely the person Cam wanted him to find. “I know it’s you. Who else?”

The kiss Louis pulls him into doesn’t feel like a kiss from someone who plans on going anywhere and that alone makes Harry certain that this is just the beginning. Lately, whenever Harry imagines the future, the two of them together is all he sees.

“He was right, you know,” Louis says, his thumb caressing Harry’s jaw. “I did realize it the moment we met.”

“In my manly loafers?”

“Yeah, in those,” he laughs, gazing into Harry’s eyes, wonderstruck as if he’s never seen them before. “Thank you so much.”

“What? For the hot slippers memory?” Harry jokes.

Louis shakes his head, grinning. “No, not for that. For _this_ ,” he says squeezing his hand. “For letting me in. Giving us a chance.”

It’s not like Harry really had much of a choice in the matter. He never planned on loving Louis. It just happened somehow without either of them even trying. Like fate. Or at least someone up above them who likes toying with it.

“So, love. I’m curious,” Louis grins with a slow kiss to his cheek that feels more mischievous than sweet, but the press of his lips instantly puts a smile on Harry’s face.

“Yeah?”

“On a scale of one to tragic, exactly how bad do you suck at ice skating?”

Harry blushes and then rolls his eyes. First, at his boyfriend for laughing, and second at his late husband who always loved to point out the fact that he has the athleticism of a baby giraffe. _The prick_.

*

Three Years Later

Harry checks the tag on the pea coat he hasn’t been able to stop eyeing even though he’s not supposed to be looking at clothes right now. He grins to himself seeing that it’s newborn size. It’s hard to believe a person could even be that tiny. It’s even harder to believe the baby girl that he and Louis are adopting will be here in just a few weeks.

“Excuse me.”

Harry turns at the sound of a woman’s voice next to him. She’s pregnant, which is the first thing he notices. Second is the way she’s chewing her lip in uncertainty.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” she begins, and right away Harry recognizes the tone of her apology. “It’s just. You sort of look like this man I read about years ago and his husband. He wrote this incredible letter…”

“He did,” Harry confirms, grinning a bit just thinking about it. About him.  “That was my late husband, Cameron,” he tells the woman. “My current husband, Louis, is right over there.”

She looks over at the man Harry just pointed to at the opposite side of the store, with a forearm covered in tiny pink dresses as he determinedly searches a rack for more. So much for them not buying clothes today, Harry thinks, smiling as he grabs the coat he had every intention of coming back for at some point. He’ll just save himself a trip and get it now.

The woman, who had first approached him with hesitance, looks elated as she looks between the two of them. “You have kids?”

“Not yet. In about three weeks,” Harry proudly beams. “And you?” The woman’s belly is pretty round, but not three weeks from giving birth round.

“Two more months,” she beams back. “I already have two three-year olds at home.”

Twins. Their daughter, Johanna, isn’t even here yet and Harry is already dreaming of a big family just like Louis’. His stepfathers’ is a madhouse on most days, but Harry loves it so much. He and Louis want their home to be just like it.

He feels a familiar hand fall against the small of his back and the soft rasp of his husband’s voice as he comes over to join him.

“Hi, there. I’m Louis,” he introduces himself to the woman who introduces herself as Amanda. She looks between the two of them again and adopts the same warm hearted expression as everyone else who still recognizes Harry from time to time, seemingly just happy to see him so happy. 

“Well, I can see you’re both busy shopping for your little one,” she chuckles noticing one of every dress in the shop in Louis’ possession. “Congratulations, you two.”

“Thanks. You too,” he and Louis say in unison. She walks away and his husband immediately smirks at him.

“A fan of yours?” he asks like people don’t come up to him just as often to praise him for his amazing lyrics. It always warms Harry’s heart to watch his husband’s eyes go wide whenever it happens, humbled and somehow still surprised after all this time that people love his songs. Harry couldn’t be prouder or more in awe of him, although, he guesses he always did have a thing for great writers.

“Shut up,” Harry snorts. “She was lovely.”

“She was,” Louis agrees. “So, did you finally decide on a crib?”

“Er-” Harry glances over at the furniture section of the shop that he’s supposed to be shopping in and then down at the soft grey coat in his hands. “I got a bit distracted?”

Louis fondly rolls his eyes, but doesn’t say anything as he takes the coat and adds it to the collection of baby clothes that stole his focus as well. “We had such a good game plan going in,” he sighs. “I don’t know what went wrong.”

“Um, I think you decided our daughter needs a pink dress for every day of the year,” Harry laughs.

Louis looks down at the clothes he’s holding, biting down on his grin in that excited way he’s been doing since they found out they were going to be parents. “I hope she likes them. And _us_ of course. That’d be awkward,” he teases.

“She’s going to _love_ us. And we’re going to love her.”

Just like Harry loves him and vice versa. Harry’s lips are instantly warmed when he kisses his husband, quelling all his worries about the family they’re starting. Their next chapter.

“You’re right,” Louis agrees. “However, she’ll probably revolt, scream, and throw shit everywhere if we don’t pick out a bloody crib.”

Harry barks out a laugh, needing no other motivation to choose something for their daughter to sleep in. “Yeah, we should probably get on that,” he says, biting down on his smile when Louis takes his hand with his free one.

“Well? Shall we?”

“Yeah, babe. Lead the way.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you again for reading this, and I hope you enjoyed it as much as I have!
> 
> I actually made a [rebloggable fic post](http://all-these-larrythings.tumblr.com/post/166638025696/you-might-want-to-marry-my-husband-25k-by)
> 
> I know. It's like I'm a completely different person. New year new me...just 10 months late :)


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